


Foreign Relations

by WandererRiha



Series: Haunted House [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Gen, Haunted House, PTSD, Selfe, how do I relationship?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-10-25 15:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10767189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: Apologies are never easy. How does one make up to an entire country?Wutai holds many memories for Sephiroth, both good and bad.Both he and Elfe assist Rufus in renegotiating terms between their two nations-- but at what price?





	1. Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> This makes installment #4 after "Triage" and "Lost Boys".  
> And now we get to the part you've all be waiting for.  
> ::smashes champagne bottle against canoe prow::  
> I hereby christen the S.S. Selfe.  
> LET SAIL THE SHIP!

A text from the boss was rarely a good thing. As such, Sephiroth was prepared for catastrophic news. Perhaps another reactor had blown, there were creatures yet alive from Deepground marauding in the streets, troops had arrived from Wutai to invade. With a mental slap, Sephiroth ordered himself to calm down. Like as not it was something far more mundane. Emergencies did not have to occur on a monumental scale; though that did not stop them from happening in such proportions. As it turned out, he was not entirely wrong.

There were half a dozen distinctly non-Midgarian men in smart, dark suits seated at the conference table. Rufus, despite being well-drilled in the Wutaian school of manners above all else, looked painfully glad to see his generals.

“Ah, General, Commander,” Rufus said, drawing the attention of the six men in suits away from himself. All of them turned to look, and at once stood up. Rufus followed. Sephiroth stood at attention, feeling Elfe and Genesis move into position on either side of him, with Zack, Shears, Azul, and Weiss fanning out behind them. For some reason, this was not as reassuring as it might have been.

“Wutai has sent us a delegation to see how we’re getting along,” Rufus explained, a slightly strained edge to his polite smile. “Emperor Godo wants to speak with me personally. He also seeks an audience with Shinra’s most celebrated general.”

Sephiroth felt not just his stomach, but the whole room sink a few inches, as if he were standing in a descending elevator and not on firm ground. A delegation from Wutai was only to be expected. News of Shinra’s rather spectacular downfall would have spread like wildfire to every corner of Gaia. He was a little surprised it had taken Wutai this long to respond. What truly puzzled him was that they’d only sent a handful of suits and not a battalion bearing swords.

“We would be honored if you would journey to Wutai, to speak with our emperor,” one of the suits said in only slightly accented Midgarian. “He wishes to renegotiate the terms between our two nations.”

“Of course,” Sephiroth replied, inclining his head the correct number of degrees for the situation. Looking to Rufus, he waited for additional explanation.

“We’ll be departing as soon as possible,” Rufus replied to his unspoken question. “Both you and Commander Verdot will be coming with me. Please make arrangements immediately.”

“Yes, Sir.”

\--

An impromptu trip to Wutai was _not_ what Sephiroth had planned on doing. The journey alone- even by airship- would take days. Rufus had said that they would need to stay until everything was resolved- which could mean anything from a few days to over a month. With a feeling of profound dread already curdling his stomach, Sephiroth decided to revert to the old military adage of hoping for the best and planning for the worst, and began bracing himself for another long and arduous campaign in hostile territory. Then a new worry occurred to him: his brothers.

What was he to do with his brothers? He couldn’t very well take them with him. Their diplomatic team was to consist of Rufus and his personal assistant, Elfe and her own retainer, and himself and his own attendant. This was somewhere between practicality and conforming to cultural niceties. Sephiroth was accustomed to having a second- whether that had been Angeal or Genesis, Zack, or even little Strife. As much as he would have liked to bring Genesis or Zack along, Midgar needed them too badly. They would have to stay here. Strife was too young and too green. If he brought him, Sephiroth would spend more time keeping Strife out of trouble than anything else. Kunsel had handled most of his administrative headaches in the recent past. Sephiroth didn’t know him quite as well as his fellow COs, but perhaps now was a good time to remedy that. Kunsel was a sensible choice for a trip that would rely more on words than swords. Thumbing a quick text to his subordinate took care of that particular problem. That still left his brothers.

Veld and Vincent were already at the apartment, seeing that the children were fed and watered. Everyone was crowded around the dining table, enjoying something that surely tasted as good as it smelled. Veld must have cooked again. Vincent, bless him, couldn’t boil water in a microwave. Without a word, Vincent pulled out the remaining vacant chair and fetched him a plate.

“Thank you,” Sephiroth told him gratefully, only too glad to sit down and eat.

His brothers at once peppered him with questions about his day and brief and disjointed expositions regarding their own. This went on for several minutes until Veld told them to “simmer down and give your brother a chance to eat.”

Compared to the Professor’s ruthlessly correct terminology, Veld’s slightly anachronistic turns of phrase were pleasant as well as entertaining, and Sephiroth found himself smiling as he chewed. Sephiroth had not had overmuch experience with home cooked food. The memory of Mrs. Strife’s cooking had been the most recent standard against which all other food was measured. However, it was in serious danger of being nudged out of the running by Veld’s cooking. Veld and Vincent kept his brothers entertained while Sephiroth ate, allowing him to finish his initial helping and serving him a second before asking him anything themselves.

“What did the delegation want?” Vincent asked quietly. The query was unassuming, but almost enough to make Sephiroth lose his appetite. Almost. He swallowed what was in his mouth before it could turn sour.

 _My head on a pike,_ he thought, but replied: “Emperor Godo wishes to renegotiate the treaty from the war. Rufus, Elfe, and myself are to go to Wutai to discuss things in person.”

“You’re going to Wutai?” Loz asked excitedly, almost jumping out of his seat.

“I want to come!” Kadaj exclaimed.

“Me too!” Yazoo added.

“Can we come with you?” Loz begged. “I want to fight some Wutaians!”

“No,” Sephiroth told them firmly, fixing each in turn with his best General’s stare. “No, you are not coming. We’re not going to Wutai to cause more bloodshed, we are going to apologize for the death and destruction Shinra visited upon a sovereign nation simply because Wutai dared to stand up to them.”

Everyone was staring at him wide-eyed, including the two Turks. Sephiroth got the feeling he might have overdone it slightly. Loz was clearly struggling to process the deeper implications of the speech, the younger two just looked distressed.

“I’m sorry,” Sephiroth told his brothers as kindly as he could. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m too used to speaking to people as if they were subordinates.”

“So...you’re not going to fight,” Loz said slowly.

“No, I’m not,” Sephiroth confirmed.

“You’re going to say you’re sorry for killing so many people.”

Sephiroth nodded. “Among other things, yes.”

“But...why?”

Sephiroth sighed. How best to translate this? “Shinra and Wutai went to war over mako resources. Wutai had mako, Shinra wanted it, and Wutai wouldn’t give it to them. Wutai had every right to say ‘no’ to Shinra. However, instead of leaving them alone, Shinra took the mako by force, and hurt a lot of innocent people in the process. Shinra was wrong. _I_ was wrong, and now I need to do whatever I can to try to make amends.”

Loz nodded slowly, the wheels in his head visibly turning. Yazoo and Kadaj still looked a little lost, but did not allow their elder brothers’ grim conversation to spoil their appetites.

“You need us to watch the boys?” Veld asked. “Vince n’ I can keep an eye on ‘em while you’re gone.”

Sephiroth blinked, having not anticipated anyone to volunteer. “Yes, thank you,” he said, relief weighting every syllable. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Veld waved him off. “They’re good kids. Wouldn’t mind in the least.”

That was one major concern off his mind, but that left another, much more worrisome problem: the trip itself.

 

\--

 

“I understand why the Emperor wants to see you,” Genesis complained, “but why not me?”

Travel orders had gone out at the meeting the following morning, and since then, Genesis had done little else but bemoan the fact that he had not been invited as well.

“You really want to be shipped alone to a nation that actively wants your head on a spike?” Sephiroth countered, viciously shoving things into a duffle. He had little enough to put in it besides the hastily manufactured new uniforms of palest gray. Only the items he’d brought with him to Corel had survived the fall of Midgar- Angeal’s old Keepers of Honor sweatshirt among them. He set it aside carefully and went on stuffing socks and underwear into the bag.

“Sorry,” Genesis apologized after an uncomfortable pause. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“I trust you to hold down the fort,” Sephiroth went on. “Work with Shears. Reeve and Elfe have a decade’s worth of plans drafted. You won’t lack for things to do.”

“Seph,” Genesis stepped forward and rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. The Emperor just wants to talk.”

A decidedly nervous expression flitted across Sephiroth’s face. “I wish I could be certain of that. We’re not defenseless, but we’re not far off. Midgar can’t withstand an invasion right now. What’s worse is we were in the wrong. Ten years in Wutai and for what? To put them in their place, to show them who was in charge.” Sephiroth drew a heavy breath. “We’ll answer for what we did, Genesis.”

“They mean to make an example of you,” Genesis said quietly.

Sephiroth nodded. “I don’t blame them if they do.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve surrendered before the battle’s even begun!” Genesis exclaimed. Sephiroth gave him a wan smile.

“No, of course not. I don’t intend to meekly lay my head on the block, don’t worry about that.”

“Good. You’ve got a wife and three children to think of,” he teased.

Sephiroth arched an eyebrow.

“Or nearly so,” Genesis amended.

“You know,” Sephiroth began, “I’m glad we have your stamp of approval, but I do wish everyone would allow us a bit more autonomy in our own relationship.”

Genesis grinned. “I thought you’d be used to this by now.”

“I’m not like you Gen,” Sephiroth lamented. “I’m no good at public relations.”

Genesis bit back the slightly off-color remark that had occurred to him and offered his friend a sympathetic smile. “Well, you’ll always have your fan club. I should imagine most of them will forgive you for falling in love.”

“You’re not helping,” Sephiroth grumbled.

“I sincerely doubt Emperor Godo will want your head as a peace offering,” Genesis said in attempt to be reassuring. “Your left arm maybe, but not your head.”

Sephiroth shot him a look. Genesis shrugged. With a sigh, Sephiroth sank down to sit on the bed.

“I wish you were coming with me,” he admitted. “I don’t like wading into enemy territory alone, especially when they know I’m coming.”

“You’ll have Elfe with you,” Genesis pointed out, moving the duffle and sitting down beside him. “She’s as good as having a full battalion behind you.”

Despite himself, Sephiroth smiled. Even without Zirconiade, Elfe was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

“She’s not going to stand idly by and let the Emperor scalp you,” Genesis teased.

Slowly, Sephiroth nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Genesis scoffed. “And the two of you had better not spend all your time bowing and scraping before the imperial court. I expect both of you to get a move on. Hold hands, make eyes at each other, _something_. I’d demand lurid details of any romantic encounters, but I know you better than that.”

“If you means I’m not going to kiss and tell, you’re right,” Sephiroth told him.

“No, I mean you’re such a blasted gentleman you’ll probably communicate by parcel post even though you’re in the same room.”

Sephiroth gave him a smirk and a good-natured shove in payment for his remark.

“I hardly think we’ll have more than five minutes together.”

Genesis waggled his eyebrows. “Five minutes is all it takes.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and shoved him again, this time off the bed.

“Idiot,” he remarked fondly while Genesis laughed. “Get out of here. You have a city to put back together and I have to pack.

Genesis gave him a cheeky salute from the floor. “Sir. Yes, Sir.”


	2. Journey Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team return to the other place where it all began.  
> As in not Nibelheim.

Sephiroth had never been able to make up his mind about Wutai. The conflict had been well underway when he had been shipped overseas at the tried and seasoned age of fifteen. He had stayed there with very few reprieves until he was twenty-three. Eight, almost nine, years of his life had been consumed by the war. At the time, neck deep in it, he hadn’t thought much about the politics of it all. The Wutai troops had been there to kill him and his men. It was up to him to make sure they killed the Wutai insurgents first. They had done so with great efficiency.

The longer it went on, the worse it had become. Sparring was fun, killing anything but. No one would believe it, but taking lives had never brought Sephiroth any joy. Toward the end, the rout had turned to slaughter and it had taken months for Sephiroth to learn to sleep in his own bed again.

In the field, he had slept crammed cheek by jowl with either Genesis and Angeal, or with the other men in his unit. It had been to guard against the nightmares as much as the marauding ninjas. Since then, there had been nothing and no one to stand between him and the sinister voices inside his own head.

All during the airship flight, a growing sense of queasiness had gathered in Sephiroth’s guts. He was not usually troubled by motion sickness, and he forced the nausea down. Fancy General Sephiroth being airsick. He did not have time for this nonsense.

Although he sat down to eat with Elfe, Rufus, and Captain Highwind, Sephiroth mostly just pushed his food around his plate. Rufus didn’t appear to be very hungry either. Mostly he sat engrossed in his tablet or sifting through mountains of paperwork.

“I want to do as much for Wutai as I can,” he explained when asked. “We’ll lift the trade sanctions of course, cut the tariffs in half. I know they’ll want their materia back, but I am frankly a little nervous about that.”

Sephiroth did not blame him. Indeed, he had more than a few of his own misgivings. Elfe seemed to be the only one who was not in a state of controlled distress. But then, in this particular instance, she had the luxury of innocence. Avalanche had been formed toward the end of the war and had been in sympathy with Wutai. She was probably the only member of their delegation who was not on Emperor Godo’s short list to be hung, drawn, and quartered.

Much like the conundrum of his fan club, this was not a problem Sephiroth could solve with a sword. He did not fear being cursed at, spat on, or having things thrown at him. He fully expected all of that as a matter of course. However, he would not be able to fight back if attacked. The people of Wutai might respect his military prowess, but they hated him as a human being. They had every right.

It wasn’t that he feared ridicule, or even death. If Emperor Godo demanded his sword arm in retribution, Sephiroth would willingly cut it off himself. The blood debt he owed could never be fully paid, but he would have to try. The thought of having to tally that debt, to take inventory of every man, woman, and child, every head of livestock, every grain of rice and blade of grass he’d cut down made him sick with horror and revulsion.

Not until after hostilities had ended and the treaties been brokered had he and Genesis and Angeal finally been sent home. Rather, Genesis and Angeal had been sent to their homes, to their families in Banora for some well earned leave. Well, Angeal had returned. Genesis had already disappeared. Sephiroth had simply been returned to Shinra. The only things waiting for him in Midgar had been Professor Hojo and an empty barracks. It had been better when they’d returned. Sephiroth had never been so anxious to return to work, to find Genesis before someone else did. But even that interlude had been all too brief. Angeal had become ill, and then died, and Genesis was rumored to be dead as well. There had been so much to do that Sephiroth had never properly had a chance to mourn his brothers in arms.

Returning to Wutai felt like going back in time. Although he knew it was ridiculous, he fully expected to see barren fields and scorched villages upon disembarking the airship. As they drew to a halt over the capitol, Sephiroth swore he could smell blood and smoke in the air. His stomach clenched so hard he nearly doubled over as the Captain announced that it would take fifteen minutes to land. It was just enough time for Sephiroth to calmly walk to his cabin, vomit what little he had eaten, and brush his teeth. Willing his insides to behave, forcing himself to at least appear calm, Sephiroth stared hard at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He still felt nauseated, the taste of metal and acid lingering at the back of his mouth despite the mint of the toothpaste. His expression looked back at him flat and impassive. Good enough. Sephiroth turned and hurried to rejoin Elfe and Rufus to disembark.

\--

It felt longer than three years since Sephiroth had last set foot on Wutaian soil. Rather, an absurd number of events had been crammed into a very short amount of time. Wutai had not been all bad, he tried to remind himself even as the _Highwind’s_ rear hatch was opened and the gangway lowered. He, Angeal, and Genesis had become best friends during the conflict. The country was beautiful, the food very good, the culture elegant and formal without the pretension that accompanied Shinra’s self-inflated pomp and ceremony. Yet he’d left it a smoldering ruin, with almost half the male population and a quarter of the female dead.

The three years after those spent in Wutai had been crammed, mostly with tragedy. Genesis had been hurt, and then gone rogue. Angeal had likewise become ill and unstable. For more than a year, Sephiroth had believed them both to be dead. Angeal would not be returning from the Lifestream, but at least Genesis had survived. This last year alone could not possibly have had another thing jammed into it. Shinra had fallen, its secrets laid bare, Deepground exposed, and Midgar itself had been left in ruins. Despite that, a strangely high number of people were still standing, himself included. All that to say nothing of joining forces with Avalanche, with Elfe.

“Hey,” she said softly as they waited for the ramp to touch the ground. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he told her woodenly.

“Look at me,” Elfe commanded. Obediently, Sephiroth turned to meet her eyes. Her tone had implied anger, but her expression was a mix on concentration and concern. For a moment she searched his eyes and then laid a hand on his arm. “ _Are you okay?_ ” she repeated.

“Yes,” Sephiroth told her, “I’m fine.” Not because he was, but because he had to be.

Now was neither the time nor the place for a confession or a nervous breakdown. Elfe seemed to understand this for she nodded and let her fingers slide down his arm to squeeze his hand.

“I’m right here,” she reminded him. “Just tell me, okay?”

He nodded, grateful, and squeezed back. The whole ship rumbled slightly as the ramp touched down. Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth released Elfe’s hand and fell into step with her just behind Rufus.

For some reason, he had expected things to still be on fire.

The utter...fabrication of it all blindsided him worse than the still smoking charred remains of a city might have. The buildings were garish, almost fiendishly vivid in color and style. It was as if someone had taken the old city, rebuilt it as a cartoon of itself, and dialed everything up to eleven. Sephiroth had heard Wutai had become a tourist destination once it had put itself back together, but he had not anticipated this level of carnival showmanship. Like the supposed delicacy of live slugs, Sephiroth couldn’t help wondering if this was some sort of backhanded revenge on the hated yet necessary foreigners?

A small legion of dignitaries were waiting to receive them. Men in suits as well as uniforms, plus several women in formal kimono bowed respectfully. Rufus stopped and returned the gesture, Sephiroth mimicking him, and Elfe following suit half a beat later. He’d intentionally left his leather jacket in Midgar, instead wearing the uniforms of the as yet unnamed united forces of what had formerly been the Shinra regular army, Deepground, and Avalanche. Reeve was pushing for ‘World Reorganization Order’, but Rufus thought it too totalitarian. At any rate, the new uniform was pale gray, an intentional contrast to the black uniforms of 1st Class SOLDIERs. Elfe, since she was leader of her own forces, wore a new uniform of sage green. Avalanche had had a dress code of sorts, but never uniforms. She looked nice in it, he thought. Although all of the military personnel present carried weapons, none had drawn them yet. Masamune slung across his back was the only thing familiar, and Sephiroth itched to hold her in his hands if only to reassure himself. He jumped as something brushed against his knuckles, then nearly melted with relief when he realised it was only Elfe, reminding him she was there.

The Emperor, of course, did not come to meet them. Sephiroth had not expected him, but Elfe appeared to be trying to pick someone out of the crowd of officials. Those assembled were clad in a mish-mash of traditional and contemporary dress, with no real rhyme or reason behind their choice. It would be difficult for someone not familiar with court dress to discern who was who.

“Where is he?” Elfe hissed as Rufus bowed and began speaking to the leader of the assembly- probably the Prime Minister.

“His Sacred Radiance wouldn’t make an appearance on the tarmac,” Sephiroth murmured back. “We’ll be presented to him formally later, after I’ve had a chance to pin on about six pounds worth of target practice.”

There had been a time in his teens when Sephiroth had been proud of his medals and insignia. Now, with very few exceptions- marksmanship, swordsmanship, his rank as general- he hated the nearly two-dozen bits of gilded metal and what they stood for. Bravery and valor his ass. Each ribbon and gold star was an extra reason for these people to hate him.

Rufus had finished exchanging pleasantries, and the minister motioned for them to follow him. Presumably they’d be led to their rooms and be given time to rest and change into their dress uniforms before being presented to Emperor Godo. There would also be a state dinner to endure, and the following day, Rufus and his Radiance would begin their verbal campaign.

\--

Sephiroth had been inside the royal palace only once. He had been present for Emperor Godo’s formal surrender, but the terms had been brokered by a Shinra representative in a three piece suit whose name he had not been told. Sephiroth had gotten the distinct impression that he’d only been kept on hand for intimidation purposes. It had not been easy to sleep within walls made of paper. Wutai had been conquered, but there were still courtiers and palace attendants at every turn.

There was no such thing as privacy in a palace with walls made of bamboo and paper. Sephiroth cared not for his modesty, but the royal household did not need to know that beneath his gloves, Genesis had bitten his fingernails bloody, or that Angeal rarely slept without first crumbling in tears. If ever they learned that the famed Silver General, the Demon of Wutai frequently awoke in the dead of night to vomit up his nightmares, he would never hear the end of it.

He, Elfe, and Rufus had been given a row of rooms that could be adjoined or closed off as the occupant saw fit. Strangely, Rufus had not been placed in between them, but was given the room at the far end that abutted a stone wall. Elfe was next to him, and Sephiroth had the room at the opposite end. He had expected Rufus to be placed in the middle, the better to be protected by his two generals, but apparently Elfe and her assistant Jessie were being given preference as the only women in the group.

Shrugging Masamune off his shoulders, Sephiroth placed her on the empty wooden stand that sat waiting. The palace staff had truly thought of everything. Then again, Masamune and himself were inseparable as a concept. It only made sense they consider the steel weapon as well as the human one.

“Where are the beds?” Kunsel asked, entering and dropping his gear on the tatami mats.

“Over there,” Sephiroth nodded at the neatly stacked and folded futons. “We’re getting the full Wutai experience.”

Kunsel blinked, looking the slightest bit dismayed. Sephiroth did not blame him. Just looking at the silken bedrolls made his stomach turn. The queasiness he’d experienced on the airship had not completely left him. Swallowing hard, Sephiroth tasted acid at the back of this throat. Gods of Gaia, let this negotiation be brief. A SOLDIER could go many days without sleep and still be functional, but he hoped it would not come to that.


	3. Peace Offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a price is demanded for Shinra's crimes against Wutai.  
> And Sephiroth pays it gladly.

Sephiroth had never been hungover, but he imagined this must be what it felt like. It was more than just a sleepless night, worse than a restless mind. He’d had moments when he could not get his brain to shut up, but this exceeded all expectations. Had he been at home in Midgar- and wait, had he just thought of Midgar as home? weird- he might have gone down to the gym and lifted weights, or put in a few miles on the treadmill, or if it was open, hit things in the training simulator. It had been three years since he’d slept on a futon; maybe six months since Shinra had very literally toppled as a corporation and world power. Why did it feel like half a lifetime ago?

Deciding he could sleep on the return flight home- there it was again, what the heck?- Sephiroth got up and went out into the darkened courtyard. The space was small, but beautiful, which was a good way to sum up the royal city in three words. A life-size banzai of an ancient cherry tree leaned over a small pond that housed a few brightly colored fish. Mossy stones and a couple of lanterns surrounded it, the low light of candles glimmering like fairy lights over the still water. A path wound decoratively from one end of the courtyard to the other, arcing gracefully to the edge of the pond before curving on to the rooms on the far side. Sephiroth wondered vaguely who- if anyone- had been housed there? With any luck, he would not disturb them.

With Masamune in his hands, Sephiroth felt as if he’d taken his first full breath since arriving. Sliding her from her sheath, he took her in both hands and began to go through the familiar motions. The smooth stones of the path were only mildly gritty with dust beneath his bare feet. He made hardly any noise as he stepped across them, turning gliding. The forms brought him around to face his own rooms and he jumped as a figure slid into view, metal meeting metal with only a faint tap. Elfe smiled at him and lowered Veritas.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked.

Her short hair was sleep-tousled, and she’d thrown a zip-up sweatshirt on over her pajamas. Her pajama pants must have been slightly too long, for the cuffs had been rolled several times. For some reason a brief flutter of alarm and embarrassment shot through him. There wasn’t any more of him on display than there usually was, with the noted exception of his bare feet. If anything, Elfe was even more covered, the sleeves of the sweatshirt hanging low over her knuckles, and the pajama pants obscuring all but her toes. Mentally, he slapped himself for being so silly.

“No,” he admitted, lowering masamune briefly. “I hope I did not wake you.”

Elfe shook her head and. Stepping down from the little wooden patio and fully into the garden, she raised Veritas in salute. Sephiroth returned it and relaxed into a ready stance.

“This must be weird for you,” she began, voice low so as not to wake Rufus or their potential neighbors. “The last time you were here wasn’t that long ago, and under very different circumstances.”

“Yes,” Sephiroth agreed. “The treaty had just been signed. I was more worried about what had become of Genesis. He and his troops were supposed to meet us for the signing, but he never showed up. Shortly after that, we learned he’d defected. Some said ‘deserted’, but I didn’t believe that. I suppose it’s all one and the same now.”

“That’s probably why only you were asked to come this time,” Elfe concluded, voicing his thoughts. “Genesis wasn’t present for the agreements. You were.” _And Angeal is gone,_ followed unspoken. Sephiroth wished he were here now. Angeal had been the sensible one, always calm, always able to break a situation down to its component parts so that it seemed smaller and easier to deal with. Still, there was Elfe just across from him, quietly tapping blades as if for a stage fight, but meeting him swing for swing.

“Probably. I’m glad they asked you to come.”

Elfe smiled at that, and took a playful stab at him. Sephiroth blocked it easily.

“I dunno how much help I’ll really be,” she confessed. “I’m honored to be included. If I can help smooth things over, so much the better. I’ve got to get good at this diplomacy thing sooner or later.”

“Better you than me,” Sephiroth said with a smirk, carefully stabbing back. Elfe spiraled Masamune off of Veritas’ edge with a yawn. “All I did the last time was sit there and look intimidating. That’s probably all I’ll be wanted for this time.” He hoped.

“You think?” Elfe seemed skeptical. “That’s the reason you’re up at four in the godsdamned morning? And do not tell me it’s SOLDIER training.” Her tone was not accusatory, yet it brooked no nonsense. Lowering Masamune, Sephiroth sighed.

“You and the members of our little entourage are the only people on this entire island who do not actively hate my living guts. Pretty much everyone from the Emperor on down would cheerfully stab me as soon as look at me if they thought they could get away with it. I am personally responsible for thousands of deaths. How the hell I’m supposed to smooth that over, as you put it, I haven’t any idea.”

Elfe just stared at him for a moment. Sheathing Veritas, she stepped forward and rested her hands on his biceps.

“Sephiroth…” she began, but trailed off, apparently realizing that whatever she had been about to say would not be nearly enough. Instead she threaded her arms beneath his and pulled him close in a hug. Sephiroth returned it, feeling some of the tension in his chest relax as he exhaled and leaned his cheek against her hair.

“This isn’t the dark ages,” she began, jaw sweeping softly against his bare chest as she spoke. “No one is going to demand your head as the price of peace between Wutai and Midgar. Rufus is already engaged to the crown princess, so it’s not like anyone will try to strong-arm you into a political marriage.”

They both snickered at this, the many headlines and tabloid speculations concerning their own fledgling relationship coming to mind.

“People don’t do that sort of cut-throat politics anymore,” she went on. “Worst case scenario, you’ll have to make some sort of public apology or statement and you can handle that. I’ll be beside you the whole time. Nothing’s going to happen, and if in the unlikely event that it does, anyone who tries to get to you is going to have to go through me first.”

It wasn’t that Sephiroth wasn’t capable of defending himself, that was not the issue. Elfe looked up at him, blue eyes dazzling in the pre-dawn light, and Sephiroth could not help but smile. He already loved and respected her more than he’d thought possible of anyone. Her declaration had just elevated that feeling several notches and it left his throat tight. Rather than try to scavenge words, he leaned and kissed her lightly. Winding her arms around his neck, Elfe kissed back a bit longer, a bit deeper, before letting go.

“Think you’ll be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Sephiroth told her with a nod. For now.

\--

Kunsel was up and trying to pack the futon away by rolling it up like a sleeping bag. Sephiroth intervened and showed him how to do it properly.

“Thanks, Sir,” his second said, slightly sheepish. “Never spent any time indoors when I was here the first time. I’ll set your stuff out.”

Sephiroth smiled for him and went to wash as Kunsel unpacked their dress uniforms and the five pounds of medals and ribbons to be pinned on the front. Since there was no bed to lay the uniform jacket on, Kunsel had carefully spread it on the floor where his general’s futon had been, the various bits of gilded metal still in their boxes laid out beside it.

The double loop of gold braid had already been threaded through the epaulets, and the general’s stars pinned to his collar. That much was easy enough to do, but Kunsel had left Sephiroth to pin the rest on himself. There were three new medals to squeeze in: the swatches of ribbons for the the Battle of Corel and the Battle of Midgar, as well as a newly-invented meritorious conduct device that Rufus had designed himself.

“No, you have to accept this,” Rufus had insisted upon presenting it to him once Sephiroth was capable of standing up without passing out. “It’s not everyone who can impale themselves and live to tell the tale. Like it or not, you were integral in defeating Jenova and we are all very, very grateful. So deal with it.”

The memory made Sephiroth smile, and pause to consider adding the medal to the short list of honors that he didn’t find either underserved or embarrassing. The device was simple, two crossed Wutaian swords- one longer, one shorter- dangling from a piece of colored ribbon. Veritas and Masamune hanging from a ribbon half black and half green. It was a visual joke; a nod to Shinra’s alliance with Avalanche as well as Sephiroth’s own relationship with Elfe. Rufus, he was learning, had a substantial sense of humor.

All of the tinware and fruit salad- the slang terms for the assortment of colored ribbons and medals- had to be arranged just so. Heidigger used to break out a ruler and eye each pin and insignia down to the millimeter before either giving a gruff nod or a disparaging glare with his remaining eye. Sephiroth only wished that uniform protocol had made allowances for the left-handed officers. All of this fol-de-ra would be weighing down his dominant side, which would be a bit awkward should the worst happen. Not that it would, but a general liked to plan for all possible contingencies.

Although the uniform did not _require_ a second person, it certainly helped. Kunsel was adept at fastening the various clasps and buckles that were difficult to reach once inside the formal clothing.

“You look good, Sir,” Kunsel told him, brushing imaginary lint off his commander’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Sephiroth replied, taking his word. There was no mirror, but that was alright. He trusted the younger man not to let him look a fool.

Elfe met them just outside their door. In the back of his mind, Sephiroth had wondered if anyone had been daring enough to include a skirt instead of trousers for her dress uniform. Evidently no one had valued their life so little, for a pair of trousers continued the unbroken line of green below Elfe’s own medal-encrusted jacket. Sephiroth glanced over the various devices and noted quite a few that were familiar, and several that were not. Most of her honorifics consisted of service ribbons, with one or two medals that must have been invented entirely for Avalanche.

“You know I think this is the first time I’ve caught you staring at my boobs,” she teased, taking his arm though he had not offered it.

“No I wasn’t!” he insisted, feeling his face heat.

Elfe snickered and tugged his arm to remind him she was joking. “Relax. I figured you were just checking out the jewelry, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.”

Sephiroth laughed with her, relaxing slightly.

“Besides,” she went on, voice pitched so that only he could hear, “I don’t really mind if you admire the view. It’s only fair, after all.” Her sidelong smile made the fading heat rush to his cheeks again, but without the embarrassment from earlier. _Well_ now.

Maybe she had planned it that way, but it gave him something else to hold onto in the back of his mind as he gently returned her hand and fell into step with her behind Rufus, Jessie and Kunsel trailing them. He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding- not with desire, but with anxiety as they made their way through a maze of paper corridors and out to the grand plaza. Already the late spring sun was hot though it was barely high enough to peek over the roofs of the palace complex.

“What do I do?” Elfe asked him, and this time it was her voice that had the subtly strained quality of worry. “Should I just follow you?”

“We’ll be presented and announced,” Sephiroth murmured to her out of the corner of his mouth. “Instead of salute, bow. Not at the waist, just incline your head and lean forward a little. You’re a general, equal rank with me, only a half-step down from the Emperor himself. He’s a general himself, but he’s also ruler of the country, so he outranks you, but not by much.”

Elfe nodded, able to understand the formalities as presented in military terms. “Okay, I can do that.”

“I don’t know if we’ll remain standing, or if we ought to kneel,” Sephiroth went on, even as they began to cross the wide avenue leading to the imperial residence. “We’re here to beg forgiveness, so possibly we’ll be kneeling. I don’t know. Just follow Rufus’ lead.”

“Right.”

A palace official in full antique regalia met them at the bottom of the stairs, bowed, and turned to show them in. The palace, oddly enough, had been largely untouched by the war. There had been minimal damage to the outer walls, but that was about it. No burning, no looting, no real desecration of any kind. Consequently, it was something of a relief to inhale the scents of aged wood and incense, to have the most ostentatious bits of the building covered modestly in a layer of gold leaf. It was a marked contrast to the theme park decoration of the city outside.

It was not a long walk to the audience chamber. It was, in reality, not an especially large room, but the high ceilings and lack of dividing walls made it seem cavernous by comparison. At the far end was a raised dais ornamented with a painted screen. Before this screen, on a silken cushion, sat the Emperor Kisargi Godo. His daughter, the crown princess Yuffie, knelt beside him.

His Divine Radiance was as resplendent in the simplicity of his garb as his daughter was ostentatious. The Emperor’s kimono and hakama were a simple deep purple and plain black, yet the family crests were embroidered in silver, and the garments themselves made of fine silk. Yuffie looked like a tiny sunburst next to her father’s somber attire. Her kimono with its long sleeves was a riot of yellow and orange flowers highlighted with gold thread, a spring green obi binding her waist. No more than twelve, her hair was done in a style befitting her age, in two small buns on either side of her head, the little rolls festooned with spring flowers and streamers of silver and gold. She looked about as happy as her father to be present, which was to say, not very.

Rufus bowed, as Sephiroth had described, not too low. He and Emperor Godo were of equal rank. It took two sides to fight, and Wutai had killed a good many of Shinra’s soldiers before all had been said and done. Not as many as Sephiroth himself, of course. He did not know the actual tally of those he’d cut down, nor did he want to. He wasn’t sure he could handle raw numbers in black and white.

Dignitaries in both modern and antique dress knelt and stood on either side. Sephiroth though he recognized a few of them. It was strange to think that many of them were not much older than he was himself. His had not been the only field promotion during the conflict. He’d killed their commanders, so many of their men. Despite Elfe’s comment earlier, Septhiorth’s stomach convulsed and he swallowed hard. His own bow, perfectly synchronized with Elfe’s, masking the wave of nausea.

Although they had been announced, no one had spoken since. A deathly hush had fallen over the assembly. For a tense moment, Rufus and Emperor Godo stared each other down. Sephiroth felt his hands curl into fists at his sides. Masamune hung heavy and reassuring on his back, but he would have liked better to hold her in his hands. An entire room full of people who wanted them dead, a whole island who wanted his blood and Rufus’. They might attack, but he dared not lift his sword against any of them. One wrong move and Wutai, even with army to speak of, could kick over the what little remained of Midgar, exacting vengeance a life for a life.

“Well,” Emperor Godo intoned, voice booming in the silence, “what have you to say for yourself?”

“Your Radiance,” Rufus began. “Er, Divine Radiance. That is…”

Sephiroth shifted, wincing. Normally Rufus wasn’t one to bungle a speech. He had the same sort of iron fortitude that would have made a good commanding officer. Unlike himself, Rufus was at home in front of a crowd, as the center of attention. Still, this was an awful lot to put on the shoulders of a nineteen-year-old. Admittedly, Sephiroth had already risen to the rank of Major by that time, but Rufus had not been genetically engineered to lead a company the way Sephiroth had been to lead an army.

“Sir,” Rufus’ voice had lost its professional resonance, “we- _I_ am here to formally apologize for the wrong Shinra has done to your country and to yourself and your family. We had no right to barge in and make the demands we did. We should never had taken up arms against you. I can’t begin to make up for what happened, but I want to do my best to try.”

Sephiroth fought back a smile. It was not unlike the speech Rufus had made to Elfe and her commanding officers. It was far less formal than anything the last President Shinra would have delivered, but a good deal more heart-felt. Perhaps he was imagining it, but Sephiroth though he saw the Emperor's mustache twitch in effort to hold back a smile of his own. No, surely not.

“Do you indeed?” the Emperor replied blandly.

“Name it,” Rufus said to the Emperor. “Anything at all. I will do everything in my power to try to make up for what Shinra has done to you and your people.”

Emperor Godo gave him a measuring look, and then directed his gaze past him to the two generals who stood behind and to one side of him. Sephiroth had just edged into his twenties when the war in Wutai had finally ground to an agonizing, bloody halt. Shinra might have won, but there had been terrible losses on both sides; most of Wutai’s by his hands. He couldn’t help feeling as it if ought to be him, not Rufus, making the apologies to the Emperor. At length, Emperor Godo nodded.

“Very well. I expect to discuss a great many matters with you, young President. I have been told that you have more sense than your father, and a good deal more honor. I shall judge for myself if this is true. Diplomatic arrangements aside, I ask but one thing.”

“Anything,” Rufus repeated, but the Emperor was not looking at him.

“I would have the tail of the Silver Demon.”

Rufus blinked and turned to look at Sephiroth, who felt confusion paint his own features for the space of a heartbeat.

“Your Radiance…” Rufus began, about to protest that he could not ask such a thing of his general, but Sephiroth had already stepped forward.

Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head and reached behind with both hands. In one smooth motion he gathered his hair into a long tail, looped it over into a thick knot, and drew Masamune from her sheath at a sharp angle so that she slid through the silver strands just above the knot. There was a collective gasp from the court and the Shinra delegation, and several guards rushed forward, hands on their hilts, but the Emperor raised a hand.

Resheathing Masamune, Sephiroth held out the long tail of his hair in both hands toward the Emperor.

“I cannot unspill the blood that I have shed,” Sephiroth told him quietly. “I hope that your Eminence will accept this small token of apology.”

For a moment the Emperor sat wide-eyed, clearly not having anticipated that Sephiroth would take him at his word. Slowly, he rose from his silken cushion and crossed the rich carpet. Stooping, he took the length of knotted hair and examined it. The tail was nearly four feet in length, even knotted, though the severed ends had turned black at the tips. The inky hue did not stop there. It spread down and through the twist of the knot, all the way to the beautifully tapered end of the severed que. The Emperor dropped the hair in alarm. Had Sephiroth not been equally surprised, the Emperor might have begun shouting. As it was, he calmly looked the General in the eye and demanded: “What is this?”

Sephiroth offered a bow from where he still knelt. “My deepest apologies, your Radiance. I truly did not expect that to happen. When I was very young, my hair was black. As I grew older, the Jenova and mako in my body bleached my hair white. It is the same with my brothers.”

“But why has it turned black now?”

Sephiroth nodded at a small red puddle surrounding the cut edges of the knotted hank of hair.

“Blood?” the Emperor choked, aghast. 

Sephiroth bowed again. “I am sorry about the carpet.”

It was not only the carpet. The back and shoulders of his dove gray uniform had become spritzed and smeared with blood where the ragged edges of his hair brushed the fabric. The Emperor just stared. After many minutes he nodded and gracefully knelt to retrieve the hair.

“You father was Wutai, was he not?”

“Half Wutai, yes,” Sephiroth replied, too thunderstruck to enquire as to how the Emperor knew this.

The Emperor shook his head. “Your blood is the blood of Wutai. You have returned the Great Leviathan to his people, and you have humbled yourself before me and my court. I accept your apology General Sephiroth. Go, and may Leviathan give you fair winds and calm waters.”

Getting to his feet, Sephiroth bowed deeply and left, Rufus, Elfe, and the rest of the delegation following bewildered after him.


	4. Cut Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sephiroth gets a makeover.  
> Sort of.

“Your _hair!_ ” Elfe cried, dismayed, once they finally had a minute to themselves.

“It’ll grow back,” Sephiroth said with a shrug. He _hoped_ it would. His hair had always grown quickly, but he’d had it long his entire life. Having the bloodied ends swinging around his neck and shoulders was deeply unpleasant, but it had had to be done. Still, he got the feeling Elfe was more upset about it than he was.

“It’s _bleeding!_ ” she insisted, flailing slightly. “How do you keep _hair_ from _bleeding?! Hair. Should. Not. Bleed!_ ”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he told her. “It’s no worse than a papercut.” A _lot_ of papercuts all at once.

“ _Your hair is bleeding,_ ” she repeated fervently. Unable to offer an explanation that she would accept, Sephiroth gathered her close. If he were honest, he needed the hug as badly as she did.

“The Professor tried to cut my hair once when I was very young,” he said into her hair. “He trimmed my bangs first and...well...I’m sure you can imagine.”

“You started screaming bloody murder because it hurt and everyone else was freaked out enough that they didn’t try it again.”

“Pretty much.”

Elfe sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out…”

“Yes, well, you knew you were going out with a freak of nature,” Sephiroth reminded her with a wry smile. Standing on her toes, Elfe stretched and kissed it away.

“You are weird, but you are not a freak of nature. Not anymore.”

He did not argue with her.

\--

Sephiroth did his best to soldier on for the rest of the day. Elfe kept casting him rather forlorn looks and everyone else just stared as they were dragged around and shown the surviving cultural sites. He could have suffered the attention well enough, but the constant sting of the severed ends of his hair as it brushed against his shoulders was distracting. With the ragged ends smearing blood across his new pale gray uniform, he knew he must look a mess. The frequent flash of cameras on every side was proof enough of that.

Although she dared not take his hand, Elfe walked closer enough to let her knuckles brush his. It was something.

“You can’t go on like that,” Rufus told him as they sat down to eat lunch. “I appreciate you taking one for the team, but that looks like it hurts.”

Sephiroth shrugged carefully. “I’m alright.”

Elfe gave him a dubious look.

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” he insisted. “A bad haircut never killed anybody.”

About then, another flashbulb exploded at close range. Sephiroth started, almost upsetting the table, calmed only by Elfe’s hand on his arm. He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear the spots from his vision.

“What on Gaia…?” he began.

“Cheese!” A small voice exclaimed, Polaroid at the ready. Inwardly, Sephiroth groaned and braced himself for the imminent flash.

“Your Highness,” Rufus’ voice had a longsuffering edge to it. “I was unaware you’d be joining us.”

“Dad said I could.”

Once the colored splotches had disappeared, Yuffie, the Crown Princess of Wutai’s, smug smile became all too visible. At twelve years old, she was still a child, but carried herself like an adult. Without further comment, she dropped down next to Rufus and helped herself to their food.

“We are honored by your presence,” Rufus said, reciting the correct niceties.

“Uh-huh,” Yuffie replied, slurping noodles. “You talk my dad out of our engagement yet?”

“Weirdly enough, no,” Rufus grumbled. “I would have thought that would be the first thing to go, but apparently not.”

Yuffie slapped her bowl on the table top. “You’re kidding me!”

“Afraid not,” Rufus shrugged. “Sorry.”

Yuffie muttered something in Wutaian that was not befitting a princess, much less a twelve-year-old.

“Our new president isn’t that bad,” Sephiroth said, with a sly smile. “You could do worse.”

Yuffie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ew, no! Grossness! He’s an old man!”

Strangely, Rufus smiled. “You know, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Princess. Normally everyone likes to remind me that nineteen is still a kid.”

Yuffie stuck her tongue out at him. Elfe stifled a giggle with one hand. Sephiroth just smiled.

“Sign this,” Yuffie demanded, shoving one of the Polaroid photos at Sephiroth. It was a distinctly unflattering shot which he fully expected to see all over every newspaper and tabloid the following morning. He had half a mind to lean Elfe back in a tango hold and kiss her in the middle of the town square if only to give the media something else to fuss about.

Rufus produced a gold pen and Sephiroth dutifully signed the offensive photo. Yuffie grabbed it and admired her trophy.

“You look really stupid,” she grinned.

“Thank you, your highness,” Sephiroth replied, not knowing what else to say. Yuffie rolled her eyes.

“You need a haircut,” she announced. “A _real_ haircut. You could go to the same place I get my hair done. They do a really good job.”

Her impish grin did not inspire much confidence, but she was right. Every time the severed ends of his hair brushed against his shoulders, the scabs tore off, sending a fresh cascade of blood all over his uniform.

“Alright,” he agreed. After all, what did he have to lose?

\--

Sephiroth had been expecting a practical joke from the princess and he was not disappointed. Immediately after lunch, she’d dragged him- and Elfe by association- to the hairdressers. A long line of young women sat waiting on the wooden patio outside.

“Is this a brothel?” Elfe hissed, eyeing the girls lounging sleepily in the sun like so many spoiled cats.

“They’re geisha,” Sephiroth corrected. “Musicians, artists, and dancers.”

“And why did the princess bring us to a geisha beauty parlour?”

Sephiroth set his jaw grimly as Yuffie pulled him inside. “I supposed we’ll find out.”

The geisha waiting in line shrieked in protest and then realized who it was that had barged to the front. At once they bowed low before their princess, all the while sneaking glances at the famed Demon of Wutai.

Inside, more than a dozen geisha sat in varying stages of torture. Some were bent double, having their scalps scrubbed in wooden tubs of cold water, while others fought not to scream as combs dipped in hot wax were dragged through their hair. Yuffie hauled him over to one of the washing stations amid protests from the next woman in line.

“ _My deepest apologies,_ ” Sephiroth told her in Wutaian. “ _I am bidden by her Highness._ ” He flipped the ragged edge of his cropped hair with one finger. “ _This should not take long._ ”

The woman blinked and bowed, shuffling back a bit on her knees. The elderly hairdresser seemed surprised to have a bulky young man shoved in front of him. Without his iconic black coat and knee-length silver-white hair, Sephiroth was not as recognizable as he had been. Indeed, it took the stylist a moment to realize who he was. 

As soon as recognition dawned, he inclined his head and took up his position. “ _If the honored General would dip his head in the water?_ ”

Sephiroth waited for a towel to be draped around his shoulders before doing as he was told. Sephiroth had never been to a barber, and if this was what he’d been missing, he did not regret it. The hairdresser’s nails scratched savagely against his scalp, and the water felt as if it had recently melted off the Da Choa ice flow. When at last he was permitted to come up for air, the stylist produced a wooden comb and a pair of scissors.

He felt the bite of the scissors, but not the pain, his head too numbed by the icy water. Not until the third or fourth snip did feeling return, and with it blood. A gasp went up from the rest of the salon. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and had fixed their attention on him. The stylist gave a shout as blood seeped from the freshly cut hair. Sephiroth just sat there, scalp smarting and blood running down his face.

At once the barber waved his compatriots over. Three of them came and gathered around him, their rapid speech and city dialect making their conversation difficult to follow. It took them a minute to agree on a plan. Once they had, one of them pushed his shoulders forward and Sephiroth stuck his head in the tub of cold water again. The cold chapped his ears, but was soothing to his abused hair. The stylist held him there for several minutes before pulling him back up and carefully patting his hair dry.

“ _Ready… Set... Go!_ ”

All four of them fell on him at once. It took all the willpower Sephiroth could muster not to move, not to blink. It wasn’t the pain so much, he’d had far worse, but the quartet of Wutaians gathered around him with their tiny opposable blades that made it difficult to keep his seat. They pushed his head down into the tub again. Hot blood met cold water, staining it pink. When he surfaced again, Elfe knelt in front of him.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t even offer a sympathetic smile. All she did was sit and lock eyes with him, holding his gaze so that he could not look away. Sephiroth took in her own short hair, her dazzling blue eyes, the perfectly neutral expression on her face. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to mirror it. The barbers dunked him again, and though his face was not underwater, Sephiroth found himself holding his breath. Not until Elfe was visible again did he release it. She was right there. She would not let this get out of hand, let it go too far. She had his back as well as his heart. He could do this.

They plunged his head into the tub one more time, and carefully patted his hair with a clean, dry towel. Sephiroth had expected the shearing to continue, but all four of the hairdressers stepped back and bowed- probably to each other, it was only because he was sitting in the middle of their informal circle that it looked as if they were bowing to him. Only then did he notice the click and whir of cameras, the bright pop of flashbulbs, and the polite patter of applause echoing inside the low, wooden building. 

He couldn’t help flinching as Yuffie snapped another photograph inches from his nose.

“You look better,” she told him, and shoved the still developing photograph at him. Taking it, Sephiroth watched his own face appear, a slight wince creasing his features. That was the only thing he recognized. They’d cut his hair as short a Loz’s, though it did not stick up the same way. He did not look like himself, and without the screen of his bangs, he felt exposed and naked. Without a word, he handed the photo back to her. Yuffie held it up next to the earlier picture.

“I’m going to call these ‘Before’ and ‘After’!” she declared. Despite himself, Sephiroth smiled.

\--

_Alas, dear readers, I have sad news to report. Silver Elite may soon have to change its name. Our beloved Silver General has made a grave personal sacrifice in the name of peace._

_You may recall that Sephiroth and his beloved, Commander Elfe Verdot, are at present accompanying President Rufus Shinra on a diplomatic envoy to Wutai. It was Emperor Godo who wished to renegotiate terms with Shinra’s new corporate head, and he asked particularly that Sephiroth attend as well. There is no love lost between Wutai and Shinra. This is understandable given that a staggering number of their people died directly by the hand of Shinra’s legendary trio: Colonels Hewley, Rhapsodos, and of course the legendary General Sephiroth._

_One might well be nervous that Emperor Godo might wish to exact vengeance for every drop of blood spilt. General Sephiroth, however, submitted humbly when the Emperor named the price of his retribution: the tail of the Silver Demon._

_Before king and courtiers, Sephiroth cut off his own hair and presented it to the Emperor. With this token of apology it seems all has been forgiven, at least as far as hard feelings are concerned. Much remains to be sorted out in the boardroom between Midgar and Wutai’s respective leaders, but international politics are not the focus of this post._

_Sephiroth has proven his mettle yet again if the flood of unflattering photos on the front page of every newspaper and magazine are any indication. If this has upset the equanimity of our dear General, it is not apparent. He has born this humiliation with dignity and grace, as one would expect from such a legend._

_What will not be appearing any time soon- as the photo of his sadly severed hair is much more sensational- is this handsome shot of the Silver General sporting his new look. (Pictured below.) While we will all miss his nearly six feet of flowing silver tresses, we must follow his example and deprive ourselves for the greater good. One must admit, Sephiroth can make anything look good, including this new unromantic, yet surely more practical hairstyle._


	5. Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth discovers this whole Wutai business goes back a lot farther than he realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for some of the artistic license taken here.  
> One of the characters uses sign language, and I haven't made it country-specific for Reasons of Plot.  
> Apologies to those who actually know how that works.

Elfe was familiar with the peculiar sort of shock one’s hair went through after being cut. Sephiroth’s had been cut close, though nowhere near as close as the typical military high-and-tight buzzcut. Each strand was perhaps one to two inches long at best, and was standing almost straight out in every direction, as if Sephiroth had stuck his finger in a electrical socket. Although they were headed back to the palace, Yuffie had abandoned them in favor of other amusements, which was just as well. Sephiroth’s usual military poker face had remained in place throughout the whole ordeal, and had not yet shifted. However, there was something strained and wild about his eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked as they walked.

“I’ll be fine,” he answered lowly. She had not expected anything different, yet there was a subtle change in the reply. He wasn’t fine, but he would be. For now, he just had to keep going. Drifting closer, she let her fingers brush against his. Heedless of the locals and tourists rubbernecking to watch them, he grabbed her hand and held it tight.

“Giving them something else to talk about?” she asked, smiling.

“I’d much rather see your face on every printed publication,” Sephiroth replied. “You’re much nicer to look at.”

Elfe was never sure how to take his slightly backhanded compliments. To be fair, she wasn’t much good at taking compliments in general. It was difficult to believe it when someone told her she was attractive, or smart, or capable, when she knew they didn’t believe it themselves. Veld had told her she was all of these things, and while she was certain he believed it, she wasn’t sure she believed him. Which made no sense if she thought about it too long. As she did with her father, she knew that Sephiroth was being sincere. As Genesis had said, Sephiroth didn’t know how to be anything else. That didn’t mean it wasn't difficult to believe that Sephiroth thought her face was prettier than his, even crowned by an unflattering haircut.

“Then again,” Sephiroth went on, “I’d hate for you to have to deal with that sort of nonsense. It’s bad enough you’re dealing with it by association.”

“I meant what I said earlier. Anyone who comes after you is going to have to go through me first,” she reminded him. “That includes rampaging tabloid photographers. Besides, I’m good at pissing people off.”

That earned her a smile and she squeezed his hand in turn. The palace loomed before them. It would be some hours before they were required and Sephiroth’s uniform would have to be washed if it was to be salvaged. 

“Did you bring any civvies?” Elfe asked him.

“Kind of,” Sephiroth said, tilting his head to look at her. “Why?”

“Why don’t you show me the sites? Take me around the old city, the local charm, not all this tourist nonsense.” A pause. “What do you mean ‘kind of’?”

“Well, I have some workout clothes; T-shirt, track pants, that sort of thing. I wasn’t expecting to do much out of uniform.”

Elfe considered this and nodded. “That’ll do.”

His severed hair had begun to bruise, the tips turning black, making him look as if he’d had an exceptionally bad highlight job. Only the crown of his head maintained the original famous silver-white color. He stood head and shoulders taller than everyone else, but with his hair scarring black, and his almond-shaped eyes, he could almost pass for one of the locals.

“What?” Sephiroth asked, noticing her eyeing him.

“Do you think you could manage a hat?”

\--

It was the thinnest of disguises, but it would hopefully be enough to cause most eyes to pass over him without a second glance. Sephiroth hardly looked like himself in track pants and an old Keepers of Honor T-shirt. A baseball cap borrowed from Kunsel helped to mask the sad remains of his hair, and shade his famous mako-green eyes.

“You look good,” she told him, nodding approvingly.

“So do you,” he replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of uniform before.”

It was true. Her collection of non-uniform clothing wasn’t much better than his, but was a bit less haphazard. Jeans and T-shirts were appropriate for any occasion so far as Elfe was concerned. She had not bothered with a hat herself. No one here would be interested in her as anything except Sephiroth’s girlfriend. Without him, she was likely to go unnoticed. Not that it mattered much. Wutai had been something of a supporter in Avalanche’s cause, if not always its methods, and no one was likely to cast her dirty looks. Even still, they took one of the side exits out of the palace.

At first they lost themselves in the crowds of tourists, blending with the other vacationers and their cameras, pretending to be interested in the recently fabricated facades and topiaries.

“What did it look like before this?” Elfe asked quietly while a tour guide droned on.

“Nothing like this,” Sephiroth said, voice equally soft. “It was...old, crowded, still colorful but not over the top. Maybe it had been this bright a hundred years ago, but everything had faded. Despite that, it was alive, busy. When I learned the city center had been burned to the ground, I felt sick.”

“So you weren’t involved in that?” she asked, surprised.

Sephiroth shook his head, leading her away from the group and toward a side street. “No. No, I was out in the bush when that happened. I never dealt the finishing blow to the Wutaian army, nor Genesis nor…”

“Yeah,” Elfe said, saving him from inventing a pseudonym for Angeal.

“Anyway, we cleared the path for the last wave of troops. I think Zack was part of that. Heidigger led it. Everyone was done playing nice by then, if ever we were following the rules of war.”

The garish paint job of the main street and tourist quarter had faded to dull wood and buildings obviously constructed in another era. Although the street was, by comparison, dingy, Sephiroth smiled.

“I was hoping we’d left something standing,” he remarked.

None of the signs here were in Midgarian. No one was attempting to draw in or cater to tourists. There were no trinket carts, no shops selling “authentic” Wutaian wares. Most of the businesses were the sort one might find on any inner city street: dry cleaners, newsagents, medicinal items, restaurants, and half a dozen different sorts of grocery stores. Notably lacking were the stalls selling weapons and materia. The people milling about here were almost entirely locals, and they looked at the pair of them with guarded glances that were equal part suspicion and confusion. Sephiroth paid them no mind, just drew her along the sidewalk as if he belonged there.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he gently pulled her down another side street, clearly following a specific route from some dusted-off memory.

“I want to see if it’s still here,” he replied. “The guys and I used to go there when we could get out of the field or off the base. It’s not easy to keep a SOLDIER fed.”

He gave her a self-deprecating little smirk and Elfe smiled back. Usually Elfe was good at notating landmarks and mentally calculating her location in an area. However, the many twists and turns of the narrow streets were beginning to make her feel like a rat in a maze. The block they were on at the moment seemed to consist mostly of residential dwellings with a few shops thrown in here and there. He stopped short and examined a sign that looked as if it had been hastily nailed above someone’s front door. The window next to said door was wider than those of its neighbors, further indicating that this was a business and not a private home.

“Good,” Sephiroth said more to himself than to her, “it’s still here.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“A restaurant. We used to go here all the time once things had calmed down. It took weeks for Shinra to send the diplomats to iron things out. Until then, the city was occupied and both sides made the best of it. I wonder if the same people still run it?”

Elfe smiled. “Only one way to find out.”

Sephiroth pushed open the door, a small bell jingling as he did so. They both had to sit down on the little step that separated the breezeway from the main floor of the dining room in order to unlace their boots. Elfe’s fit neatly into one of the little cubby holes. Sephiroth’s boots- too large and too tall by half- had to be set to one side. A young woman with a sloppy ponytail and a ready smile inclined her head and ushered them toward a low table set back a bit from the window. She kept casting Sephiroth odd looks. He did his best not to meet her eyes, and only spoke to thank her as she left to fetch tea and to give them a minute to look over the menu. It didn’t take Elfe long to peruse the selection. It was all in Wutaian.

“Okay, you are going to have to give me lessons in Wutaian,” she grumbled. “I can’t read this.”

“Mostly they serve noodles here,” Sephiroth explained, setting his own menu down. “Have you ever had real Wutaian food?”

“Not unless you count greasy Midgarian take-out.”

“Right. Try this one,” he pointed at one of the entries. “It’s not too exotic or spicy. It took us a long time to try to get Genesis to try anything else.”

“Okay,” she agreed, wishing she had a better idea of what she was ordering. “Normally I’d order for myself, but I trust your judgement.”

Sephiroth smiled and looked up as the waitress arrived with their tea. This woman was older, and Elfe got the feeling she might have seen her somewhere before, which was both strange and unlikely. The waitress blinked and furrowed her brows as Sephiroth looked up and began to speak to her. They babbled back and forth in Wutaian, evidently exchanging pleasantries as the waitress set two cups and a teapot on the table. He asked something and the waitress nodded. Elfe caught the honorific “san” and guessed they were talking about a person. Inexplicably, Sephiroth’s face lit up, the waitress nodded, and hurried away.

“What’s up?” Elfe asked, already annoyed that she couldn’t follow what was being said. She wished Fuhito were here. The thought hit her belatedly, a sudden pang of grief piercing her as she remembered he was gone. He would have loved this. He would have translated. Gaia keep him in her embrace that his spirit may bless the living.

“I asked her if Grandma was still here, Sephiroth explained. “She owns the place, though her children and grandchildren run it. I remember she had gray hair when I was a teenager, so I wasn’t sure if she’d still be around.”

Elfe nodded. “So did the waitress recognize you?”

“Yes,” he said, pouring tea for both of them, “though not from the tabloids or even the propaganda. She had to tell me how much I’d grown. She knew all three of us when we were still kids.”

“So _is_ Grandma still here?”

“Yes,” he smiled and for a moment he was the image of his eldest little brother; Loz’s boyish face and innocent joy shining back at her. “Mitsuki went to fetch her.”

The waitress returned, pushing aside the swinging door and standing against it. With both hands she guided a minute old woman dressed in a traditional kimono and housecoat. She was not even shoulder-high on the waitress- who Elfe assumed was her daughter- and made her way forward with tiny, shuffling steps. It took a few minutes, but she approached their table, and the waitress helped her kneel down on one of the spare cushions.

“ _Oba-san,_ ” Sephiroth said fondly, and reached to take her hand. Even on his knees, he was more than a head taller.

A wide smile split her features and she reached for him with both hands. Tears welled up in her almond-shaped eyes as she cupped his face with fingers bent nearly sideways with arthritis. Tenderly, she gathered him close and hugged him to her heart.

Bewildered, Sephiroth let her do this, bracing one arm against the floor to maintain his balance as well as to keep from crushing her. He couldn’t help startling slightly as one of her gnarled hands brushed over his hair. For a moment he froze, breath caught, heart stopped. Granny made no sound, but continued to stroke his head as if he were a small child and not a grown man more than twice her size. Rather than pull away, he hid his face in her narrow shoulder, one arm around her waist, until he could compose himself.

Once his breathing had evened, he felt her arms loosen and he raised his head. Granny smiled at him, and pulled him forward enough to kiss his forehead. Reflexively, he ducked his chin, suddenly shy.

Sephiroth said something that was probably along the lines of “I’m very glad to see you again.” Grandma smiled and made a series of gestures with her hands. Ah! Now _this_ Elfe could handle.

“She says she is very glad to see that you’re well, and that she has been keeping track of you through the newspapers and the television. She wanted to write to you, but she was afraid Shinra would not let you see her letters.”

Sephiroth stared. “You know sign language?”

Elfe shrugged. “Yeah. At the time, it seemed more practical than learning Wutaian. Obviously, I’m going to need to do something about that.”

Smiling, Sephiroth shook his head. “You’re full of surprises.”

Elfe grinned. “That’s what they tell me.”

Grandma’s hands had not stopped moving. Despite her gnarled fingers being bent nearly sideways with arthritis, they fluttered gracefully before he housecoat. Her daughter gestured back to her, and Grandma replied, movements sharp. Elfe blinked. Sephiroth was trying to track their speech, for Grandma was mumbling something, the foreign sounds warped and muffled even to Elfe’s untrained ear. Sephiroth held up both hands, and said something that sounded distinctly like “slow down”.

He inquired of the daughter, who gave him an explanation. Grandma, however, had not stopped.

“What’s the problem?” Elfe asked, keeping her eyes on Grandma’s hands.

“Mitsuki says she’s getting confused as she gets older,” Sephiroth translated. “Ever since I left, she’s been asking when her grandson will come back. Apparently she thinks very fondly of myself and the guys.”

Elfe squinted as Grandma repeated a single gesture and word. Grandson! _Grandson!_

“Something about her son? Wrote her about the birth of his child. He never told her the child’s name, but she’s convinced it’s you.”

Sephiroth had gone quiet.

“Ask her what her son’s name is.”

Grandma painstakingly spelled something letter by letter out with one hand, but couldn’t make sense of it. She was saved as the waitress spoke up:

“Hojo Seiji.”

Sephiroth sat there, his expression dazed, as if he’d been hit over the head with a bat. Which, Elfe reflected, he had- metaphorically, anyway. Elfe barely knew two words of Wutaian, but she understood his next words to Grandma and her daughter well enough:

“Seiji Hojo was my father.”

There were six heartbeats of stunned, dead silence. Grandma cried out and threw her arms around Sephiroth. Her shout brought the other servers and some of the kitchen staff running. Everyone started shouting at once. Elfe knelt bewildered yet stolid, hand on Sephiroth’s arm until his relatives recovered enough to quiet down and attempt a more organized approach to sorting things out.

Later, Sephiroth would give her the short version: his father had journeyed to Midgar to study. He had still been a teenager then. Although he had not returned, he had written often. However, his letters had gradually tapered off, and after the war, they had stopped altogether. One of the last letters had mentioned his son, and asked for advice on dealing with tantrums. After that, they had heard nothing.

Their lost nephew had unwittingly wandered through their door several years later, two friends in tow. Grandma had thought Sephiroth looked familiar, but the silver-white hair and mako-green eyes had thrown her recollections somewhat. Sephiroth had spent another five years believing himself to have no other blood relatives besides his brothers.

Elfe sat by quietly until all this was sorted out. Only then did anyone remember that she was still in the room and hadn’t understood a word of the rapid-fire conversation. At that point she was pulled into the heart of it. As their nephew’s girlfriend, she was suddenly much more important. His aunts fairly exploded with joy when they learned about Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj. It took some persuasion to convince them that they were his brothers and not his sons. Elfe added her cache of phone pictures to Sephiroth’s and couldn’t help smiling as his aunts passed their phones around.

Maybe it would hit them later that their nephew was the war’s most infamous figure, or perhaps ‘figurehead’ might be more accurate. Sephiroth had been up to his eyebrows on the front lines, but for more than half of the war, he had also been a minor; a Captain and barely old enough to shave, let alone drive, drink, or vote. Maybe they could forgive a child for committing war crimes that had not been his idea.

If he had expected his family to be cold or judgemental, he was wrong. Everyone followed Grandma’s lead, and clapped him on the shoulder, or shook his hand, offering joy and congratulations. Once everyone was done welcoming him, they turned to Elfe. Sephiroth introduced her, and apparently must have told them she was his girlfriend. Grandma asked when they were to be married and Elfe had to explain that he hadn’t asked her yet. Grandma felt he ought to deal with that as soon as conveniently possible; preferably within the next ten minutes.

Their orders forgotten, one of the bus boys flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed” on the door. They were treated to an impromptu feast, a belated homecoming for a family member long thought lost. Everyone crowded around the small table, eating and drinking their health. Sephiroth only lifted his eyes a handful of times, but a shy smile never left his face. It was difficult to tell how he felt about all this; Elfe guessed somewhere between pleased and mortally embarrassed. Then again, wasn’t that how most people felt about their families? She personally hadn’t any idea.

Several hours passed before Sephiroth’s newfound relatives would let them go. Despite not understanding any more than she had initially, Elfe got the gist of what was being said: we’re so happy, we love you, hurry back. Whether or not they would be back in person was up in the air- and that gave her an idea- but there was always the phone. Now that each knew the other was there, they could keep in touch. If nothing else, Grandma ought to see her three other grandsons at some point.

Their hands swung clasped between them as they wandered farther and farther from the city center. The paved sidewalks and asphalt roads had turned to gravel, and it crunched under their heavy boots. Overhead, the sun had long since passed its zenith, but there was still plenty of day left.

“Are you okay?” Elfe asked him for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Are you glad to know you have more family?”

Sephiroth’s brows creased as he thought about that. “I don’t know what to think right now,” he admitted. “I know ninety-nine per cent of the population here doesn’t like me much, and that’s sugar-coating it. However, they seemed genuinely happy to see me. I was afraid…”

He trailed off, and squeezed her hand.

“You were afraid they’d be angry too,” she finished, “that they wouldn’t like you.”

“I was afraid they’d _hate_ me.” She could almost hear the sob behind the words. “I never imagined… Never thought… In Midgar, or Kalm, or Junon maybe, but _Wutai…_ ”

Elfe squeezed his hand in sympathy. “I know,” she agreed, “but you knew the Professor had some Wutaian blood in him.”

“More than I thought,” Sephiroth grumbled more in wonder than anger.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Maybe not bad but...it makes it worse somehow.”

Elfe tilted her head, confused, and he went on.

“I didn’t just personally take out a third of a country’s male population, I hurt my own family.”

“Seph…” The abbreviation slipped out unauthorized, but he didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, he offered a sad smile at the single syllable.

“Only the guys ever called me that,” he said softly.

“Sorry,” Elfe apologized.

“No it’s okay,” he told her. “You can call me that if you want.”

It was her turn to smile. “Okay.” A pause. “I don’t think it was you who hurt them. They’re just glad you’re alive, and that you’re back in their lives. That’s something isn’t it?”

Sephiroth thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He didn’t smile exactly, but some of the tension had gone out of his face. “Yeah,” he mused, “it is.”


	6. Grandma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone else meets the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grandma, or "Josie", is an OC who goes waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back to a small circle of FF7 fans. So here's a little nod to all of you and our particular corner of the sandbox.  
> You know who you are. <3

_  
“Mama?”_

_Perhaps because she’d never managed to fully adopt western dress, she looked less dated than many women her age. The informal kimono and housecoat suited her slender body. She still curled her bobbed, black hair as she had as a young woman, but it became her. With four sisters ahead of him, Seiji Hojo had been born late in his mother’s life. Although she had married young- just nineteen- she was over sixty now but was only just beginning to look like it. Wutaian women had a curious way of holding onto their looks much longer than most. Only the faintest of creases and crinkles pulled at the smooth skin around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth._

_‘Seiji!’ She smiled widely, signing his name- an “S” that looped around one eye; his first name combined with ‘spectacles’. It was actually a pun, one that could only be carried off in sign language. It was followed quickly by ‘How are you?’ and ‘Who is this?’_

_“Mama, this is Lucrecia,” he said, taking time to spell out her name one letter at a time. “She is going to be my wife. Lu, this is my mother Yu-Xei, or Josie if you prefer.”_

_His mother smiled and bowed courteously to his intended. Lucrecia, trying to mask her bewilderment with a polite smile, quite forgot herself and curtsied in return. Hojo bit his lip in order to keep from laughing._

_‘Very pretty,’ his mother agreed, ‘but much too thin. Small hips. How will she bear sons?’_

_‘You did alright,’ he replied with his hands, glad that Lu’s knowledge of sign language was limited. Although half a head shorter than Lu, his mother wasn’t any wider. She’d delivered five children without incident. With any luck, the birth of their own child would be equally uneventful._

_“What’s she saying?” Lu murmured, as if afraid his mother might hear._

_“She thinks you’re very pretty, and that she’s looking forward to grandchildren,” he told her, choosing to go with an abridged version. Lu blushed and shifted awkwardly. It was early yet, so much so that one could not tell at a glance that she was expecting grandchild number one already._

_“She’s mostly talking to me,” he assured her. “You can speak to her if you like, she reads lips. I can translate her replies for you.”_

_Lu nodded and smiled nervously, this time remembering to bend her neck and not her knees as she addressed his mother. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”_

_His mother’s hands fluttered before the patterned fabric of her house coat, a flurry of elegant gestures that would have been at home as part of a traditional dance. His mother’s hearing impairment had been quite a shock to his father, only discovering her handicap after he had taken her across the sea. In a culture of physical nuance and strict manners, deafness was less of an impairment in Wutai than it had proved to be in Midgar. He watched the questions flash past: When will you marry? Have you a place to live? When will the child be born?_

_Wait a minute._

_“What?” Lu asked._

_“We plan to marry very soon,” he relayed to both women, choosing to bypass Lu’s question for the moment. “Next month. We would like you to be there. Lu will be moving into my apartment until we can find a something better. As for grandchildren...you should not have to wait too long.”_

_Lu smiled tightly, pink rising in her cheeks. He felt his own face heat as his mother gave him a knowing look and then turned to Lucrecia, fingers weaving a message that he felt decidedly awkward having to translate. Trust a grandmother to detect a baby even if the grandchild was scarcely two inches long._

_“She...wants to know how you’ve been feeling. There’s a remedy that worked very well for her when she was expecting.”_

_Lu’s cheeks flushed crimson, and he worried for a moment that she might faint- such a thing had happened at least twice already. However, she kept her feet as he put an arm around her. Seeing Lucrecia’s dismay, his mother reached and took her hands, patting them gently. After a moment Lu looked up, apparently surprised at the older woman’s behavior. His mother smiled and patted Lu’s cheek. Lu smiled back shyly. Releasing her hands, his mother signed briefly and gave Lu a conspiratorial wink._

_“_ Mother! _”_

_She just laughed, making Lu tilt her head quizzically._

_“What? What’s so funny?”_

_Hojo rubbed his face with both hands before replying. “She says you’re very clever to have ensnared me. She was beginning to fear that I would be a bachelor forever. Or something to that effect.”_

_It was Lu’s turn to giggle.  
_


	7. Into The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sephiroth and Elfe take some time for themselves.

There were tours plodding slowly up the Pilgrim’s Trail that wound through the many statues and friezes cut into the sides of Da Chao. One could hear the yammer of the tour guides and the more anonymous grumble of their charges as they made their way forward, taking pictures every few feet. Hundreds of years ago, some enterprising monks had taken it into their heads to carve figures into the living rock of the dormant volcano that made up the tallest peak of the mountains. Rather than follow the photographing hordes, Sephiroth drew Elfe away from the main path, and down a much quieter dirt track.

“Used to be this was the only path to the Sacred Heights,” he explained. “That’s what ‘Da Chao’ means in Wutaian.”

“Did you and the guys go up?” Elfe asked.

“We did,” he confirmed. “There was a guerilla nest up there hiding in the monastery.”

Elfe did not prompt him, to go on, afraid of what was coming next.

“We had our orders,” he said softly, deep voice almost unheard above their own footsteps and the distant, incessant buzz of insects. “None of the guerillas were left alive. I didn’t want to kill the monks, they were pacifists, and wouldn’t fight, but they would happily shelter the next band of insurgents and I couldn’t allow that.”

He paused, lost in memories, and they walked on for a few minutes in silence.

“Did you know the mountain is as chiseled inside as it is outside? It’s riddled with caves and tunnels. Some were carved, some are organic. The monks had dug themselves a hall, cells, even a temple, but we never made it inside. The minute I drew Masamune, they all stepped back forming a human wall between me and the rest of the cave. I swung, but all she hit was heat and thin air. All of them had burst into flames.” He fell silent, took a breath. “That fire is still burning.”

“What’s why Shinra never managed to actually build a reactor here,” Elfe said, taking up the tale. “Despite being a water diety, Leviathan’s high place is Da Chao.”

Although the monks had won that battle, Shinra had ultimately won the war. They could not pump Wutai’s mako directly, so they’d forced the island to pay tribute in materia. Up until a few days ago, Wutai had still been occupied by Shinra forces left behind to oversee the collection of materia. Perhaps because its mako reserves had not been directly touched, the island seemed less depleted than the Eastern or Western continents.

Wutai had always been an example of noble defeat to Avalanche. A country that had remained true to its ideals and beliefs, and though it had suffered horribly, it had in the end kept Shinra from obtaining the thing it most desired. She had never thought about the human cost on Shinra's side. It had not occurred to her how deeply this trip might affect Sephiroth.

“We can go back,” Elfe offered, suddenly regretting her request for a tour. “We don’t have to go on.”

Elfe wasn’t sure knocking about the palace with nothing to do but dodge dirty looks would be any better, but it might prevent further unhappy memories.

“No, it’s okay,” Sephiroth said, visibly shaking himself. “I think like the restaurant, it’ll do me good to see things are still standing. Besides,” he added, a teasing slant to his smile, “I need to walk off our engagement feast.”

She shoved him gently and he laughed, obediently stumbling to one side.

The forest seemed less oppressive now, though the air was heavy with the perspiration of so many trees. Large stones, heavily shrouded in moss, loomed just off the edge of the path. Someone had tied a ragged bandana about two-thirds of the way up one of the stones. Sephiroth stopped to inspect it.

“There’s a _Douso-jin_ under all this,” he said, carefully pulling back a fern frond to reveal a primitive stone face. “A traveler’s guardian. They watch the old path up the mountain.”

“Shinra left a lot more standing than I thought,” Elfe remarked, and regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth.

“There wasn’t any point in destroying the cultural artifacts,” Sephiroth shrugged. “These little totems weren’t in the way. The mountain itself suffered minimal damage, it was only the people we hurt.”

“Seph, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Sephiroth smiled gently. “I know. Forget it.”

Taking her hand again, he pulled her along, and Elfe fell into step with him again.

The forgotten trail was less precipitous than the well-worn tourist path up the decorated side of the mountain. The monumental sculptures faced the sea, and as such bore the brunt of the sun and weather, so that only bare rock stood above the town. Sephiroth led them up through the foothills and onto the mountain proper up the leeward side. There were sculptures here too; older, more primitive, half-hidden by vegetation and covered in moss. Sheltered from the worst of the weather, the trail was shaded by trees and the height of the mountain itself. The temperature became more bearable even as they both grew warmer from the exertion of the climb. Neither of them were panting, but both were running with sweat by the time they stopped for a breather halfway up.

“I forgot how hot it can get,” Sephiroth observed, trying to wipe his face with one hand. It didn’t help much.

“I feel like one of those steamed buns your aunts make,” Elfe agreed. “I don’t suppose there are any ice cold mountain streams around?”

Sephiroth thought for a minute. “Everything’s grown over so much, it’s hard to tell. There _is_ a water source up here, but I forget exactly where.”

“Really?” Elfe visibly perked up at the possibility. Although she wasn’t the least bit tired, she was hot and uncomfortable and this might be a mission, but it wasn’t one that was supposed to involve sweltering to death in a jungle. “Where?”

“I think it’s a little higher up,” Sephiroth said. “This way.”

The stream was closer than expected. A narrow gravel lane veered off from the main path and through a narrow cleft of stone. This widened into a deep basin that was fed by a slender waterfall that cascaded down the stones from a much higher elevation.

“It’s beautiful,” Elfe remarked, taking in the smooth, dark stone and the pool of water so clean and pure that it reflected the sun and overhanging cliffs in perfect detail.

“It’s drinkable,” Sephiroth told her. “I’m pretty sure it’s snow runoff from the mountain peak. The one summer it nearly dried up.”

This in mind, Elfe knelt down and splashed some of the water on her face. It was stingingly cold after the heavy heat of the forest. Sephiroth followed suit, setting aside Kunsel’s ball cap and stripping off his shirt. 

Elfe blinked, having not expected that. Her freshly cooled cheeks warmed again, but she did not look away. Deciding he might be onto something, Elfe pulled her shirt over her head as well. Her sport bra was dark-colored, and more modest than any two-piece bathing suit she’d ever seen. They were a couple now- and the thought was no less strange even after lunch with his family and riding herd on his brothers for months- she could look at him if she wanted to.

Despite walking next to him all day, she was reminded afresh of just how _big_ he was. Not just tall, but broad and solid as well, he sometimes seemed like an entirely different creature. However, without the T-shirt, a handful of scars were visible, pulling him back down to the realm of mere mortals. The little vertical seam just above his belt line showed both before and behind. She had not been present when he’d impaled himself, but she had heard plenty, and spent a good three months dealing with the aftermath. The quartet of diagonal slashes in his left bicep, however, we as yet unknown in origin.

“How’d you manage that?” she asked. Most soldiers were all too eager to boast about battle scars. Sephiroth proved no different, though his smile was somewhat rueful.

“My second encounter with Chaos.”

Elfe blinked. “Second?”

“When Zack, Cloud, and I found Vincent, we had to fight each of his Limit Breaks one right after the other. It wasn’t easy, but we managed it. Chaos...manifested again later. That time I was on my own, and I knew Vincent was in there somewhere. I hesitated,” he shrugged. “I kept that to remind me not to hold back, especially if it’s someone I care about.”

She nodded thoughtfully. Sephiroth was hopelessly attached to the Turk, and nothing she said or did was likely to change that. She wasn’t sure she even wanted it to change. Valentine had issues to be sure, and while she still didn’t like him much, she was no longer actively angry. It struck her as a needlessly hard lesson, but that was apparently the only way a soldier learned anything, herself included. The feeling of being watched made her look up. Sephiroth was staring at her.

“What?” she asked. Strangely, his cheeks colored and he dropped his gaze to study the ground.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I just, I never, that is...um…”

Despite her best efforts, Elfe couldn’t help laughing a little. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “If I didn’t want you to look, I’d have left my shirt on. Not like you’re seeing too much more of me without it.” Which was true enough. She had the lean, sparingly-proportioned body of a runner or swimmer. However, it seemed enough to capture Sephiroth’s attention.

He looked up shyly, through his lashes, a smile tugging at his lips, and Elfe felt something inside melt. He’d already proved her wrong regarding the stories of his bloodlust. Evidently most of the rumors surrounding Sephiroth’s name were just that. If his fanclub was to be believed, he was as exceptional behind closed doors as he was on the battlefield. Somehow, Elfe got the impression that such reports were based on speculation, or at the very least exaggeration. Everybody had at least one one proto-relationship as a teenager. She might not be the first to find out for sure, but she was probably among a very small, very privileged minority.

Although the sun was still high overhead, the cliffs and foliage provided some shade from its rays. The pool was ringed by solid rock, but stone gave way to sand and then soft grass and moss a few feet back. Standing, Elfe wandered back into the shadows of the gnarled trees and spread her damp shirt on a convenient branch. Sephiroth followed her, likewise hanging up his own T-shirt. For a moment they just looked at each other, awkwardness hanging between them as thick and oppressive as the humid summer air.

“This doesn’t have to be weird,” Elfe told him, stepping into his space. “We’re not breaking any rules.”

“I know,” Sephiroth mumbled, trying hard to meet her eyes, but seemingly unable to stop himself looking away. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” she assured him, though not without some measure of personal disappointment.

“Oh no I want to,” Sephiroth said hurriedly. “But I’m not…”

“What do you want to do?” she asked, reaching to take his hands. He finally looked up, green eyes meeting blue.

“To start, I want to kiss you.”

“Good,” she said, stepping closer, “because I want to kiss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what "Da Chao" means, if anything.


	8. Dating Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sephiroth would like to consult an expert, but all he has are Genesis, Zack, and Vincent.

Genesis’ comments about wanting lurid details of any intimate encounters in Wutai aside, Sephiroth had to admit, he had a point. This was a business trip, and he and Elfe were unlikely to have much time on their own. However, Sephiroth was painfully aware that he hadn’t any idea how to go about cultivating a romantic relationship. Prior to departure, he had put the question to Genesis. He might tease and taunt, but he had been the only one out of the three of them who had made any attempt at such a thing.

“Dating?” Genesis had echoed. A thousand smart remarks flicked through his mind, each one sharp and tart on his tongue. Oh he had waited for this, had hoped and prayed that Sephiroth would one day come to him for advice, but now that he had…

“I don’t think any of the activities you see in television or movies would work well with Elfe,” Sephiroth explained. “I’m not really one for going out to dinner or movies myself. We work well together. We’ve been existing in each other’s space for months, but mostly professionally. I know her, but I don’t _know_ her, if that makes sense?”

Genesis nodded. “You’ve fought her, you do know her, just...only as a soldier, not as a person.”

“Yes,” Sephiroth beamed. “Yes, that, exactly.”

Chewing his lip, Genesis stared at the floor and thought. At last, he looked up and shook his head. “I could tell you how to win a woman’s favor. I could tell you the right words and phrases to use to flatter her vanity and endear yourself to her. I could tell you how to get her between the sheets, and what to do once you’re there but...that’s not what you’re asking.”

Sephiroth shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

Feeling defeated, Genesis sighed. “I was actually hoping to watch you; see how the two of you got on. I’m afraid I’m as socially maladjusted as you are, I just hide it better.”

That made Sephiroth smirk. “Well, you’re a natural performer, I’m not.”

“We all keep character, Seph,” Genesis told him. “You were always the straight man in our little band.”

“So you were hoping to take notes on me and Elfe?” Sephiroth asked. “Why?”

To his amazement, Genesis blushed. “Because I’ve found someone.”

“Gen!” Sephiroth exclaimed, pleased. “That’s wonderful!” Genesis had had more than one girlfriend prior to this, often boasting about them for a day or two. None of the matches had ever lasted much longer than that. Still, if this was another fling, Sephiroth would be happy for him anyway. They all had to take happiness where they could find it.

“Who is it?”

“She’s...she’s different. Special. It’s not like the book club girls,” Genesis insisted, his tone somewhere between apologetic and defensive. “She’s also...a fair bit younger than I am. Not enough to be inappropriate,” he hurried to amend, “but enough that if I were to ply my suit, it would be a little awkward. More so for her than for me.”

Sephiroth nodded quietly, not entirely following, but sympathetic.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Genesis went on. “I want her to stay. I want this to last. Anybody who, well…”

“What?” Sephiroth prompted.

“She saw me sick,” Genesis said quietly. “She saw me ill and wounded, dealt with me while I was grumpy and in pain. She’s seen me at my worst, and yet it didn’t scare her away.”

“You mean Rui,” Sephiroth said as realization dawned. To his surprise, Genesis did not deny it or offer a sharp retort. Instead, he looked away as red creeped up his neck and into his face. Guilty, he nodded.

“Yes, I have the most horrid crush on Shalua. She appears older than she really is. I’d no idea she was only seventeen. Well, she’s eighteen now, but still.”

“You’re twenty-four,” Sephiroth finished. “Well, like you said, it isn’t unsavory, but it is a little outside the norm. Then again, so are we.”

That got him a smile. “So you don’t think I’m a dirty old man?”

“Oh no,” Sephiroth assured him. “You’re a dirty _young_ man.”

Genesis shoved him and Sephiroth laughed. It wasn’t often he got to tease his friend back.

\--

Although Zack had offered to help, Sephiroth did not think he had enough experience to attempt that particular brand of courtship. Like Genesis, his Colonel’s methods relied heavily on flirting and witty turns of phrase. Zack had tried to explain flirting, but Sephiroth feared it was a lesson wasted. He did not have the younger man’s gift for words. Besides, Elfe didn’t seem to suffer that sort of attention with any amount of patience. Therefore, he turned to the only other examples to be had.

Vincent and his contemporaries seemed to have a bit more decorum concerning romantic relationships than Sephiroth’s own generation. Admittedly, the Professor would not have been his first choice for advice on anything outside of dissection, much less matters of the heart. Yet the first thing that had come to mind was the film of his own birth, and the way the Professor had reverenced his mother’s body. In his own awkward way the Professor had loved her. The gestures and touches had been minimal, reserved, and yet they’d spoken volumes.

Scarlett was anything but subtle, but neither was she a surprise. She might tease and taunt, but there was an almost painful honesty in how she behaved toward Reeve. He supposed part of that had to do with coming up the ranks as the only woman among legions of men. The rest...he wasn’t sure. Reeve might banter with her, but like the Professor, he treated her with a slightly different yet almost reverent courtesy when others were watching. What they were like on their own, he did not know. Nor should he, it was not his business. Still, he needed a coach, a mentor, hell a _hint_ would be nice because he had _no_ idea how to go about this.

“I am literally the last person you should be asking,” Vincent had told him dryly. “Trying to address your mother as anything other than my baby sister tied my tongue in knots. Veld will back me up on this. It was his chief source of frustration for a couple of years.”

Sephiroth sighed, venting some frustration of his own.

“Why don’t you ask Veld? He’s the one who wound up happily married.”

“Elfe’s his _daughter!_ ” Sephiroth protested. “How am I supposed to ask him for tips on courting his baby girl?”

Vincent blinked, evidently not having expected that. He opened his mouth, thought better, and closed it again.

“Point,” he conceded. “What about Zack?”

“Zack’s methods won’t work for me. It’s like the difference between wielding a sword and a gun. I’d just make a mess of it.” He sighed and pushed both hands through his hair. “Help me out, here. Surely you at least know how to talk to a girl even if you’ve never actually done it?”

Vincent just looked at him, expression utterly blank and Sephiroth realized he might have accidentally touched a nerve. On the verge of apologizing, he shut his mouth again as Vincent shifted, his jaw working, evidently searching for words.

“Tell her,” he managed at last, sounding as if he were having trouble forcing the words out. “Talk to her. Tell her what’s on your mind.”

“How?”

Vincent shook his head, pushed one hand through his bangs, and consulted the ground for help. Taking a deep breath, he let out a heavy sigh.

“Just...be honest.” The words were rough and warped, as if they hurt to pronounce. “Just open your damn mouth and let it out.” Vincent swallowed hard. “I wish I had.”


	9. Skirmish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sephiroth and Elfe have their first non-combat related fight.  
> Among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the long-anticipated mush you've all been waiting for is here.  
> Here there be snoggery, such as it is.  
> Enjoy.

Sephiroth leaned down, and touched his lips to hers. The kiss was hesitant at first, self-conscious, but only for the space of half a second. Elfe reached up, tugging him down a bit more as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sephiroth laced his own arms behind her back, drawing her close. Her hands stroking down the nape of his neck sent shivers down his spine, the severed strands of his hair bristling in excitement. He stooped a bit more, breaking the kiss to hide his face in her throat and steal a moment to breathe. Although Elfe was on the tall side for a woman, Sephiroth still stood head-and-shoulders over her. He cast briefly around for a convenient rock or tree root, something she could stand on that would put them eye-to-eye.

Elfe’s lips and nose tickled along his jaw, behind his ear, making it curiously difficult to focus. Nevermind. A good soldier could improvise with just about anything- or nothing- as the case might be. Crouching a bit, he scooped her up, bracing her hips against his stomach, his hands clasped under her behind. Already hanging onto him, Elfe tightened her grip around his neck as her feet abruptly left the ground. A flicker of surprise flashed across her face, but was replaced quickly by a mischievous smile. Sephiroth mirrored it. Like this, she was a few inches taller. Loosening her stranglehold, she instead locked her legs around his waist, supporting herself so that he wasn’t responsible for the whole of her weight. So thoughtful, so capable, one of the many things about her that he loved.

Stretching up for a change, Sephiroth was rewarded as Elfe leaned down ever so slightly to meet him. It was hot, so hot, or maybe it was just them? This close, it was impossible to escape the warmth of her body, the alien sensation of her bare skin against his. They were both acceptably attired for a hot day off duty. That did not make the sensation of the skin of her back under his hand any less enticing. Ever since that fateful day where he’d gotten ready in such a rush he’d entirely forgotten his shirt, Sephiroth had gone without one. Her cheek, the feather soft touch of her eyelashes against his chest after their first kiss in the rail yard had made his heart pound. It hadn’t been much, but it had been more than he’d ever experienced.

Sephiroth could count on one hand the instances where he’d been hugged or kissed: before Aunt Ifalna and Uncle Gast had left, and after he’d met Elfe, with an enormous gulf of time in between. For most of his life he’d been married to his work, Masamune his only mistress. He didn’t think she’d begrudge him this, after all, she had Veritas to keep her company. Acutely aware he had no idea what he was doing, Sephiroth let Elfe lead, trusting that she’d tell him if he pushed too far.

A bead of sweat slid down his back, barely noticed. Elfe’s warmth only added to the heat, but he didn’t care. It was worth it to hold her so close, to feel her hands on his skin, her lips on his. The realness of her was making him giddy; the heavy cotton of her trousers, the soft-strong sensation of her arms around him, the taste of barley tea still lingering on her lips, even the weight of her balanced against his own body. He wanted nothing so much as to lose himself in her, to hide his face in her throat and breathe her in, to memorize her shape with his hands as well as his eyes.

It was hard to know where to put his hands. Elfe was reasonably well-balanced, her legs wrapped tightly around him. Sephiroth wanted to touch her, to feel the contrast of the slightly synthetic texture of her scar as it gave way to the more natural softness of undamaged skin. He could feel her muscles as she leaned closer, striving to close the gap between them without overbalancing. Rather than risk tumbling to the ground, he stumbled forward to lean her back against a convenient tree.

No longer needing to assist in their balancing act, Sephiroth let his hands trace her sides, slowly following the little inverse curve of her waist up toward the wider width of her ribs and down again. Elfe tucked her knees, pinning him against her, pulling their bodies parallel. He’d never been this close to anyone, much less a girl. He hadn’t even thought of Elfe as female until she’d fallen ill, though he’d loved her the moment their swords clashed for the first time. Pressed against her like this, her usually unnoticed femininity was all too obvious. As he slid his hands up, most his attention focused on kissing along her jaw, Elfe caught his hand and leaned forward, directing it behind her back. He froze as his fingertips connected with the clasp of her bra. The sweltering afternoon suddenly turned cold as Lazard’s many lectures came rushing back to him.

“We should stop,” Sephiroth gasped. Much more and he wouldn’t be capable of the rational thought necessary to step back and consider the consequences.

“Says who?” Efle breathed, leaning forward to follow him even as he drew back. “We agreed: once the war was over, once Jenova was gone. Well, Jenova’s history and we’re both still standing. So get over here.” Tugging on his neck with one hand, she tried to pull his face close to hers.

“Well yes,” he admitted, moving his hands to rest them on her shoulders, the better to gently resist her attempts to draw him in. “But what exactly did we agree to?”

That got her to stop. “Are you serious?”

She was gaping, disbelief and anger fighting for dominance. Sephiroth felt his face heat for an entirely different reason.

“Yes,” he told her, trying hard to sound conciliatory. “What’s acceptable? What’s enough? What’s too much?”

She relaxed a little at that, giving him a smile with an amused slant to it. “I must admit, that’s a first. Can’t say I’ve ever had a guy ask me how much was too much.” A pause. “Then again, I haven’t done a lot of dating.”

“Me either.”

“Really?” Elfe could not help the incredulous tone. Sephiroth looked away, cheeks burning.

“Really.”

“But…” she stammered, “you have a _fan club!_ ”

“Yes, and I’m scared to death of them.”

It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t kidding.

“So all the rumored girlfriends and little generals…?”

“Rubbish,” Sephiroth told her with some emphasis. “I’ve never… That is… You’re the first person I’ve ever asked out, and I’ve not even formally done that.”

“You’ve really never had a girlfriend?” she pressed. 

“When the _hell_ would I have time?” he finally exploded, booming voice sending the birds scattering from the trees for safer cover. “I was fighting a _war_ for the last ten years!”

“And you never had time off?” she challenged. “No sweetheart back home? No geisha on the island?”

“ _Yujo_ ,” he corrected. “Elfe, I was a _minor_ for half the war! Shinra didn’t drop legal age to fifteen until I was twenty! Lazard had me on a leash so short I could never get more than eight inches away from him. Plus we were in the bush most of the time. The jungle isn’t exactly the best place to meet girls.”

Surprised he was taking this so personally, Elfe let the silence hang. Maybe it was a bit pushy, but she was a little insulted herself that he should suddenly slam on the breaks now. Had she been too forward? They hadn’t discussed this in any great detail. She had assumed- and like the last time, apparently she’d been wrong.

“Sorry,” he apologized, before she could do likewise. “I just… I haven’t done this before, and I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to risk losing you.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m being nosey and tactless. In the interest of full disclosure, the last time I had a boyfriend I was fourteen and we thought holding hands was a big deal. After that, I was married to my work, so I’m not any more informed than you are.”

That made him smile.

“Not everything has to have rules and regulations,” Elfe told him, taking his his face in her hands. “I trust you. If it gets to be too much, or I don’t like it, I’ll tell you. Or just smack you upside the head.”

“I know, but I’d rather you didn’t have to. I don’t want to risk compromising you- both of us, really. I don’t want to risk giving you mako poisoning, or worse yet, getting you pregnant. I didn’t...come prepared,” Sephiroth explained awkwardly. “I don’t want anyone to question your integrity, your ability to command.”

“ _What?_ ” The single syllable was sharp, icy, and Sephiroth knew instantly he’d said the wrong thing.

“Are you suggesting,” Elfe said, voice low and dangerously calm, “that sleeping with you would make me incapable of doing my job? That my virginity is somehow tied to my position as general?”

She had her hands around his neck, and not in a grip that was in any way reassuring. If he could have, he would have backed away. Instead, Sephiroth put both hands up in surrender. Elfe was pinching his waist with her legs so hard that she did not need the additional support to keep her upright.

“No!” he insisted. “I am not suggesting anything of the sort. What you do with yourself is your business and no one else’s- or it would be if we weren’t public figures. You know and I know that what we do is going to be on display for all and sundry whether we like it or not. I don’t know about you, but if we were to...well… I’m not that good an actor. Even if they couldn’t prove it, people would suspect.”

She was angry. Not at him, necessarily, but he was the only one besides herself at which to direct that anger. A woman was judged infinitely more harshly than a man. Sephiroth could have had dozens of mistresses and no one would have had an unkind thing to say about him. If she were to take a lover, however…

“Are you more afraid of damaging my reputation or yours?” she challenged. “I’m a mercenary, a vigilante, and a terrorist. How much have I truly got to lose? I’d say it’s more the Silver General’s precious reputation that’s in danger of being tarnished.”

Sephiroth’s brows sank into a scowl. “You know that isn’t true.”

She did know, but she didn’t care. For so many years love hadn’t even been a possibility, let alone an issue. The handful of times it had come up, she’d willingly, intentionally chosen her cause over her personal feelings. The Planet was more important. What was her loneliness against the lives of literally everyone else on Gaia? She’d made her sacrifice, purposely keeping people she cared about at a distance because of how they could be hurt; how they could hurt her. Since her teens she’d been playing the role of the White General, the Virgin Queen, how much longer must she continue to slay her own feelings for the sake of others?

Needing space, needing to react, Elfe abruptly leaned back, grabbed the tree with both hands, and _shoved_ Sephiroth off of her with both feet. Caught completely off guard, he reeled backward, performing an awkward backflip and landing on one knee in a ready stance. It took his brain a moment to catch up with his reflexes:

“What was that for?!” he demanded. Elfe did not respond, but pushed off the tree and rushed at him. He caught her easily, dodging her fist and then her ankle as she kicked. If she’d had Veritas, she would have yanked him from his sheath and swung. As it was, she had only bare knuckles to contend with. She didn’t even bother to draw on Zirconiade’s power, her anger giving her all the speed and strength she needed.

Without Jenova to boost his own movements, they were almost perfectly matched. Sephiroth’s reach was longer, but she was a heart beat faster. At first he only tried to keep her from landing a blow, but quickly changed tactics to try to get her to stop.

“I have taken misogynistic bullshit _all. my. life_ ,” she growled, punctuating each word with a jab of her fist. “I am _not_ going to take it from _you!_ ”

“I suppose you’re the only one who’s had unreasonable expectations put on them,” Sephiroth countered, finally pressing an attack of his own. “I am _trying_ to be a gentleman!”

He grabbed her arm, twisted, and she had either to leap into a flip or be tossed to the ground. She landed with as much grace and dignity as she could manage, sweeping one leg out to knock his from under him. He went down with a satisfying grunt, but vaulted upright just as quickly.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he demanded, driving toward her. “To keep you at a distance? To know that I’ve got to behave as if there is nothing between us but professional courtesy? Do you think I don’t hear the whispers of our troops? How hard it is restrain myself when someone mutters about you selling out or sleeping with the enemy?”

That caught her up short, enough that when he managed to grab her wrist, she froze.

“I love you,” he told her voice, strangely small. “I want you, but not at the cost of what you’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

They stood for a moment, tensed to fight, wrists locked in each other’s fists. Something cracked deep inside, and Elfe found herself unable to hold onto her anger. Instead she flung herself at him, arms twining around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. It was deep, bittersweet, and more honest than the self-indulgent canoodling they’d done earlier. After a moment their lips parted, but they remained standing close together, arms around one another. With a defeated sigh, Elfe leaned against him, wishing, for the first time, that they were not generals and therefore responsible for much more than their own conduct.

“It isn’t fair,” she mumbled into his chest. “I love you. I want to be with you. Why does it have to be so damn complicated?”

“I’m sorry,” Sephiroth murmured, hugging her close. “I’m not very good at this. I don’t want to mess it up, but I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m doing.”

“Me either,” Elfe admitted. “For the longest time I never even let myself think about it. Now…”

“I know,” he agreed, stroking one hand over her hair. “Everyone expects so much of us.”

“I just want to know that you love me.”

“I do love you, Elfe,” he told her, taking both her hands and sinking to one knee so that he didn’t tower over her quite so much. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone. I want to do this properly, for both of us.”

Elfe stared at him, eyes grown wide. Dear gods, was he going to propose right here and now? Suddenly she felt an abominable fool, as well as a sharp stab of panic. As much as she’d wanted to make love to him only minutes ago, as much as she wanted to be with him for as long as she could manage, she was suddenly, violently struck by the knowledge that she _was not ready_ for this.

“I don’t really know you,” Sephiroth went on, giving voice to her own thoughts. “Not yet, not as a person. I barely know who _I_ am off the battlefield.”

She nodded, daring to breathe as his pronouncement seemed to be steering away from asking for her hand.

Sephiroth contemplated their clasped hands, took a deep breath, and looked up. “All I can ask of you right now...is to be patient with me?”

“I can do that,” Elfe smiled, tugging him to his feet. Standing on her toes, she dotted the corner of his mouth with a quick kiss. “We’ll figure it out together. Truce?”

That got her a smile. “Truce.”


	10. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth and Elfe do what they do best: plan logistics.  
> This is not as dull as it might seem.  
> Good relationships take work, after all.

“Oh Gaia,” Elfe laughed as they continued up the trail, their first argument concluded. “Were we really just fighting over who’s defending whose honor?”

“Apparently Genesis is right,” Sephiroth chuckled. “I really am an insufferable paladin.”

“Nah, nothing Lawful Good about your,” Elfe assured him with a quick peck on the cheek.

“What would you call me?” he asked, honestly curious. Elfe thought for a moment.

“Somewhere between Lawful Neutral and Chaotic Good, I think. You follow the spirit of the law, not the letter, and you have a heart as well as a brain.” She grinned slyly. “And what about me?”

“Chaotic Good,” Sephiroth said decisively. “You care about principles and doing the right thing, even if it means breaking the rules- especially if the rules are stupid.”

“Very diplomatic,” Elfe agreed. She held out her hand. Sephiroth took it and they walked on.

“Everyone expects us to live happily over after,” Sephiroth mused after several minutes of companionable silence. “While I have no objection to that, I don’t know all that much about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. What do normal couples ask about each other?”

Elfe had to think about that. “Books? Music? I haven’t seen a movie or watched any television besides the news in I don’t know how long.”

“Same,” Sephiroth said. “I’ve been on campaign almost non-stop since I was fifteen. It doesn’t provide many opportunities to build up one’s pop-culture repertoire.”

“No,” Elfe agreed. “Wait, I thought you said legal enlistment age was dropped to fifteen when you were twenty.”

“It was.”

“But you just said you were on campaign since you were fifteen?”

“That’s when I was shipped overseas,” Sephiroth explained.

Elfe stumbled to a stop, eyes wide with disbelief and shock. “You joined the army at fifteen?”

“No, I went to war at fifteen,” he corrected. “I was inducted at twelve.”

For a long moment she stared at him dumbly. Finally shaking off her shock, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. Sephiroth stumbled a bit and put his arms around her in turn.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Why?” he asked, bewildered.

“Because my childhood may not have been all sunshine and buttercups, but at least I had one.”

“I never thought it was so bad,” Sephiroth countered. “I met the guys when I became active duty, and I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better.”

“But you don’t want that for your brothers.”

“No,” Sephiroth said emphatically, “I don’t.”

“Good,” Elfe nodded, releasing him and stepping back. “I don’t either. They should be allowed to be kids.”

Sephiroth nodded. “I agree.”

“So cartoons, comic books, and Cub Scouts for them, then,” she said with a grin. Sephiroth returned it.

“And no sharp objects until they’re at least fifteen.”

“Agreed.”

It wasn’t possible to reach the summit of Da Chao, not without hooks and rope. Sephiroth wasn’t sure about Elfe, but he certainly wasn’t a free climber. The end of the old Pilgrim’s trail, however, led up past the still-burning caverns of the gutted monastery toward a lookout that had been carved and shaped to look like a human hand. Perhaps “human” was too strong a word. As with all the other artistic embellishments along this older trail, the carving was rough and primitive, making it look as though some spirit of the earth was reaching out toward the heavens.

Elfe stepped out onto the promontory, Sephiroth following a half step behind.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

Sephiroth, however, was not smiling. His posture had become rigid, and though he stood facing the wide panorama of the Wutaian countryside, he didn’t seem to see it. Instead, his piercing green gaze stared past it a thousand yards or more.

“Seph?” she asked, reaching a tentative hand toward him.

Sephiroth inhaled sharply, every muscle tensing to strike, and then he realized the touch to his hand was Elfe. He shook himself, blinked deliberately, and the land below was once again green and tranquil. The deep breath escaped with a shudder, and Elfe’s fingers tightened around his. Gratefully, he squeezed back. Although she did not speak, she gave him a questioning look.

“We fought here,” he said shortly. It was all the explanation he had planned to give, but found his lips were still moving. “There used to be little villages all over the countryside; farms and small holdings. Some of them were little more than extended families in just two or three buildings.

“This whole area was leveled by fighting,” he went on. “There were guerilla troops in the forest. Rather than fight them for every inch, we set fire to it. The whole countryside went up. Forest, farms, everything. Those who escaped the blaze...we killed. We left no survivors.” His hand tightened around hers, making the leather of their gloves creak. “ _I_ left no survivors.”

For a long moment they stood together, only the sounds of birds and insects lightening the silence.

“I told myself it was for the good of the Planet,” Elfe said, soft voice loud after so much quiet. “The souls of the dead are the lifeblood of Gaia, after all. They were all Shinra minions, the enemy, expendable. If they weren’t for us, they were against us.” Her fingers slipped from his and for a moment Sephiroth clutched at empty air. Then her arm twined about his waist, and Sephiroth felt his heart calm. Almost automatically, he draped his arm over her shoulders.

“Soldiers are killers,” Elfe went on. “People get caught in the middle by accident or intent and innocent lives are lost. My hands aren’t any cleaner than yours; maybe less so.”

Sephiroth cocked his head at this last statement. Elfe looked up at him, a painful and unpleasant expression on her face; one of regret. Somewhere deep in her blue eyes, he thought he detected tears.

“You were following orders,” she explained. “Even as a general, you answered to Shinra. I gave Avalanche’s orders myself.”

There was nothing to say to that; not ‘I’m sorry’, or ‘it wasn’t your fault’, not even ‘I know how you feel’. Instead, Sephiroth drew her close and put his other arm around her.

“I’ll get my wish,” she said softly. “Before I die, every mako reactor will be dismantled down to the last bolt, but restoring life to the Planet won’t bring back all the people who died because of me.”

Sephiroth nodded grimly. “We’re here to apologize, to make up for what we’ve done, but it isn’t possible.”

“No,” Elfe agreed, “and you shouldn’t be held personally responsible for a conflict that wasn’t your idea. You said yourself, you were a kid for half of it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be held accountable at all, but if everyone exacted a life for a life, there wouldn’t be anyone left alive on the whole planet.”

“True,” Sephiroth mused. “Wutai at least had the satisfaction of watching Shinra self-destruct. I don’t know that we evened the body count, but we’ll more than make for that with austerity measures, at least until we can get all the infrastructure back in place.”

“Eh, builds character,” Elfe said with a sage nod. That got him to laugh, and she smiled.

“It occurs to me that this is the first time we’ve actually been on our own,” Sephiroth observed.

“I know. It’s hard to find a spare minute.”

“We need to work on that,” Sephiroth said. “I want to know who you are away from combat. Hell, I want to know who _I_ am off the battlefield. I’ve been fighting for so long I haven’t any idea.”

“I agree,” Elfe sighed. “I’ve played the role of a leader for so long. The last time I did anything fun for myself, I think I was still in school.”

“I’ll have Kunsel schedule some time off, so long as Biggs can find corresponding time in your itinerary?” It was half a tease, half serious. Both were so busy that it often took a second person to tell when they were coming or going.

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed with a smile.

The sun had begun to sink behind the restored canopy. It would be full dark by the time they hiked back. Even given his past tours in Wutai, Sephiroth did not trust himself to find the way back and said as much to Elfe.

“That’s alright,” she said, as expected. “We don’t necessarily have to walk.”

There was an impish smile pulling at her lips, and Sephiroth tilted his head at her, curious. Rather than answer in words, a pair of crystalline wings unfolded from her back. Of course! Except, there was one small problem.

“I’ve never flown before,” he admitted. That wasn’t the worst of it. He didn’t know Holy the way she knew Zirconiade. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the summon, but Jenova had done nothing to endear him to having voices not his own inside his head. So far the guardian summon had been a gracious guest, keeping mostly to himself, but there was a world of difference between having an entity sitting quietly in the back of one’s head and trusting them to keep you aloft several hundred feet in the air.

“Have I finally found something I can do better than the Great Sephiroth?” she teased, taking his hands. “Don’t worry, it’s actually pretty easy. Once you’ve done it, it’s hard to return to earth.”

He nodded, remembering Vincent’s joyful whoop and mad laughter after their own wild flight. At the time he’d been worried that happiness was something Vincent had forgotten; might never feel again. Such freedom was surely intoxicating, and if Vincent could make peace with the voices in his head, so could Sephiroth.

“C’mon,” Elfe dared. “Let’s show them that one bad haircut isn’t enough to sap your strength.”

She led him to the edge of the cliff, a broad smile on her face. For his part, his heart was hammering in his chest. He’d leaped through thin air thousands of times, but this was different. There was nowhere to rebound, nowhere to land. She was asking him to step out in faith.

“It’s okay,” she said gently, squeezing his hand. “I won’t let you fall.”

It was all the invitation he needed. Elfe jumped and so did he, plummeting hand in hand with her off the edge of the mountainside. The forest rushed toward them at an alarming rate, the wind shrieking past his ears, tearing at his shorn hair. Instinct- his or Holy’s, he wasn’t sure- made his wings snap open in an explosion of silver-white feathers.

The arc was too tight to keep hold of her hand and still flap his wings for the necessary change in trajectory. Releasing her hand was one of the most terrifying things Sephiroth had ever done to date, but the fear plummeted to earth while his wings carried him up and up. Elfe was right. The rush trumped the terror. It wouldn’t take long to get used to this.

Below him the forested mountainside was fading into darkness, the capitol glittering to life just as the stars had begun to wink into existence overhead. His wings beating steadily on either side, his muscles stretching and flexing with the work of bearing his own weight, Sephiroth felt more secure hovering in mid-air than he’d thought possible.

A blur of crystal streaked past him, and he felt a light tap on his arm. Elfe’s laughter rippled the stillness and the white noise of his wings. She hovered just out of reach, off to his right.

“See?” she said, smiling. “Not so bad, is it?”

“No,” he agreed, feeling a grin stretch his own features.

Elfe fluttered closer, her own jewel-like wings sweeping the cooling air. Leaning, she grasped his shoulders and briefly touched her lips to his.

“Tag!”

With that she darted away. Shaking himself, Sephiroth dove after her. The wind carried her laughter back to him, and he caught himself grinning as he chased her. He grabbed at her hand, but she spiraled out of reach, arcing higher into the sky. Sephiroth beat his wings and reached, but she dodged again, this time diving. Folding his wings tight, he let gravity seize him. 

Kunsel’s hat flew off and he snatched it back, shoving his hand through the hole in the back so that it hung off his wrist. The cool air felt strange yet refreshing, rustling his too-short hair. Stretching out both arms, he caught her around the waist. Tucking her close, he spread his own wings, pulling them back up among the stars. Elfe wiggled and twisted, trying to get free, but not actually putting up too much of a fight. Obligingly, he loosed his grip and she turned in his arms. Leaning forward, he kissed her nose.

“Tag.”

Elfe huffed. “That doesn’t count!”

Laughing, he tried again, pressing his lips to hers. She didn’t try to push away, but wound her arms around his neck, he own wing beating softly in rhythm with his. He didn’t think about flapping his wings, or about just how much empty space hung between the two of them and the ground. Zirconiade and Holy would keep them aloft. All he need think about right now was Elfe.

Kissing her now was less...fraught than earlier, more respectful somehow. The warmth of her skin made a start contrast to the cool air rushing past. Full night had fallen and stars surrounded them as the moon slowly came out to see what strange creatures had invaded her domain. Smiling, she closed her eyes and touched her forehead to his.

“I wish we could stay up here,” she murmured.

“So do I,” he agreed. Very few knew what it was to fly, to literally soar above the earth by their own power. It wasn’t the same as the monstrous leaps a SOLDIER was capable of; physics-defying jumps that required a takeoff and a landing with the ever present fist of gravity trying to haul one back down by the ankles.

“We’ll fly over Midgar,” Sephiroth promised, “over Cosmo Canyon. Just the two of us. Together.”

Her face snuggled in his throat, he felt more than heard her words: “I’d like that.”

As much as they would have liked to fly on, the night would not last forever. The immovable reality of real life waited for them on the ground. Sooner or later, they would have to return, but that was alright. The night might end, but the sky never would.

Their landing in the garden was a bit rough, and it was a struggle to keep their laughter quiet. Sephiroth had never been drunk, but imagined this must be what it felt like. It was full dark now, and they both had to present themselves at court first thing, but he did not want to let her go. If the way she held fast to his jacket and stretched to kiss him again was any indication, Elfe didn’t either. They could stay together, pass the night, nothing need happen, but that would not be how it would be perceived by the palace. Paper walls hid little, and the flimsy barrier must remain a stone wall between them for a little while longer.

“I wish I could stay with you,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

“So do I,” Elfe murmured, her tone almost guilty.

“We’re still at war,” Sephiroth reasoned. “We said we’d wait until after.”

Elfe let out a frustrated noise. “Please tell me you mean ‘after we leave Wutai’?”

Sephiroth couldn’t help smiling as he stooped to kiss her again. “Yes,” he told her during the brief moments when his lips were not engaged. “After we get back. We’ll find the time. I promise.”

It was hard to return to his own room. Kunsel started awake and gave him a sleepy salute, but flopped back down again as soon as Sephiroth waved him off. Sleep would not come easy this night, but not because of the ghosts and demons crowding at the edges of his thoughts. Tonight they were kept at bay by an angel with crystal wings wielding diamond sword. Through the paper panes, he could just make out the silhouette of Elfe’s little hand as she pressed her palm against the wall. Opening his fingers, he put his own hand against hers. He could just feel the soft heat of her skin through the paper. Elfe was there, just out of reach, but it was enough. With a sigh, Sephiroth closed his eyes. He would have peaceful sleep tonight, and he had Elfe to thank.


	11. Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dangit. Accidentally deleted this chapter.  
> Lost all the comments too.  
> Grr...

Sephiroth felt ill. Not since he was a very small child had he felt this sort of dread of authority. Reminding himself that a private audience with the emperor was a rare privilege did nothing to diminish his nerves. Elfe, noticing his distress, did not try to force him to eat. If she had, he felt sure his lunch would revisit him later.

“He can’t touch you,” she said softly. “He wouldn’t dare. You’ve already apologized and made your peace offering. He can’t ask for anything more. Wutai’s just as guilty of war crimes as Shinra.”

“It isn’t punishment I’m afraid of,” he told her. “It’s the reckoning. I know I’ve done terrible things, ordered others to do terrible things. To be made to take a tally of every sin I’ve committed… I know I must bear it, but I’m not sure if I can.”

\--

Emperor Godo contemplated the silken folds of his lap.

“General,” he began, tone oddly hesitant, “you humbled yourself before me once already. I will not ask you to do so again. I have not summoned you to list the transgressions between our nations. We do not- and will never- have time for that.”

Bizarrely, Sephiroth thought he detected a glint of humor in the Emperor’s eyes.

“I have asked you here so that I may thank you.”

Sephiroth blinked. “Thank me,” he echoed, bewildered. “For what?”

“For returning my daughter to me.”

Sephiroth felt his jaw drop despite his best attempts to keep it closed.

“Yes,” Emperor Godo said, smiling. “I knew. I sent soldiers to search for her within the hour. For three days we searched and did not find her. Then just as evening fell, her nurse found her right where she had left her: in the garden.”

A telling pause.

“You gave her back.”

“We gave her back,” Sephiroth admitted, burning below his collar. “I suppose it was expecting a bit much to not be implicated.”

The Emperor nodded. “Oh yes, we figured it was the three of you right away. Who else could have snatched the crown princess practically from her nurse’s arms?”

Sephiroth forced himself not to shift awkwardly where he sat, unsure if he was being scolded or commended. Perhaps both?

“I have just one question,” Godo went on. “You could have ended the war then and there. I would have done anything to ransom my daughter. Why return such a powerful bargaining piece?”

“If your Radiance must know, a trio of teenaged boys do not make the best babysitters,” Sephiroth confessed with a chagrined smile. “She was too much for us. So we put her back.”

The Emperor laughed, long and loud, wiping away tears before he recovered himself.

“That’s my little princess,” he agreed. This time, the title was not an honorific. “She was and remains a holy terror. A strong will makes a strong leader. I am confident she will become a wise ruler if she can learn to temper it a bit.”

“And yet you’re willing to attach her to Rufus,” Sephiroth remarked, regretting the words in the same moment.

“To keep him honest,” Godo replied gravely. “My daughter does not suffer fools, as you and your brothers found out.”

Sephiroth had the decorum to blush.

“I had hopes that Rufus might be more amenable than his father. If not…” Godo shrugged expansively. “Most empires collapse from the inside.”

Sephiroth nodded, a chill tracing through him. Leave it to the Emperor to beat the former president at his own game. It was unlikely Rufus would have lasted long at the princess’s hands. Now, however…

“Why let the marriage stand?” he asked. “What has Rufus to offer the princess besides a bankrupt company and a city in ruins?”

“Your young president does not bring much material wealth,” the Emperor agreed, “but he has proven to have a kind heart, and a discerning mind. I would not object to adding these qualities to the Kisaragi blood line. Besides, who’s to say I must give up my daughter now that the Shinra Electric Power Co. is no longer what it once was? Perhaps my future son-in-law will travel here to serve as prince and advisor. He was groomed to lead. It would be a shame to waste so much hard work.”

Sephiroth nodded, seeing the sense in this.

“You and I were born and bred to lead as well,” his Radiance went on. “The Wutaian people have the unique ability to recognize the merits of our enemies. For many years I nursed a deep hatred for Shinra, and for you, yet I could recognize and appreciate your skill in battle, and the devotion your men have for you.”

Feeling his cheeks and neck burn, Sephiroth bowed slightly where he sat. “It is something I have long admired and sought to emulate. Please know that I bear no personal grudge against anyone on this island. It brought me no joy to needlessly end the lives of so many good soldiers.”

“Your apology is accepted, General,” Emperor Godo told him gently. “As I said, there is no way to undo what has been done. Instead, let us move forward. We will honor our dead in silence, and speak no more of it.”

“Sir?” Sephiroth blinked, so stunned he forgot protocol.

“I am content to let the dead rest if you are.”

Leaning forward, Sephiroth bowed a second time. “Agreed.”

\--

Elfe was waiting in the hall for him when it was over. Heedless of the guards and various palace staff hurrying about, Sephiroth pulled her close and kissed her long and deep. If anyone noticed- and he was certain they had- they kept it to themselves. Once she’d gotten over her initial surprise, Elfe kissed him in return.

“I take it the meeting went well?” she laughed.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Sephiroth nodded. “Yes. Yes it did.”

It was not unlike the haze of motions to be gone through immediately after a battle. Sephiroth was barely aware of the state dinner and reception that concluded their final night in Wutai. The general mood was considerably less hostile, but still contained a certain amount of icy politeness. Sephiroth would take it. He drifted through it, letting Elfe and Rufus do the talking. They were the ones who knew what needed to be said when it came to mako power and political bargaining.

The clang of the closing hatch as the Highwind prepared for departure felt like the echo of a burden finally cut loose from his shoulders. Carrying the weight of thousands of dead was too much for one man- even a SOLDIER 1st Class- and Sephiroth abandoned it gladly.

“You escaped in one piece,” Elfe teased him as they finally began the long flight back.

“Yes,” Sephiroth agreed, drawing her close for a hug. Now that he finally had a minute to sit down, he realized how tired he was. Between their hectic schedule and his own self-generated anxiety, he’d barely slept the entire time. “I’m going home with my head still intact.”

 _Home._ Home to his brothers, to Genesis, to Vincent and Veld, Zack and Aeris, to Midgar. His family. His home. The thought made him smile as he rested his cheek on Elfe’s head.

“Sleep if you want,” she told him, her hand sweeping a soothing arc across his shoulders. “It’s over.”

_Over._

With a sigh, Sephiroth closed his eyes.

\--

“Big brother!”

“Oniisan!”

“Sephiroth!”

He had barely stepped off the gangway when three small bodies hurled themselves at him. Instinct took over and Sephiroth dropped to one knee, only reminding himself at the last minute not to retaliate, but to engage. Kadaj got there first, latching his arms around Sephiroth’s neck in a hug. Yazoo and Loz piled on right behind him, each hugging him tight. Sephiroth closed his eyes and gave all three of them a squeeze before they left him to descend on Elfe.

“I’ve missed you,” he told them honestly, once their greeting had been administered. Elfe seemed amused by it, and had taken it in stride. Yazoo had seized her duffle and was now toting it determinedly despite it weighing almost as much as he did.

“Such a gentleman,” she remarked.

“Guess what!” Kadaj piped.

“You’re not supposed to tell!” Yazoo cut in, but Kadaj was undeterred.

“Uncle Zack’s getting married!”

 

 

A great ending to a fun little arc. :D Thanks for reading me in! Hope I helped a bit. :)


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